


Hydeous

by suchadearie



Series: Hydeous [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, The fic where Gold is Dr. Jekyll, and Rumple is Mr. Hyde
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 79,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchadearie/pseuds/suchadearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle French, clerk of lawyer Mr. Jones, just wants to deliver some paperwork to client Dr. Jekyll’s house. She doesn’t expect to meet Jekyll’s strange - and rather disgusting - friend Mr. Hyde there, and she’s certainly not expecting the disturbing effect both men have on her. Not long, and Belle has to deal with all kind of monstrous problems…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is currently under construction...means, I'm editing and applying a few minor changes :)

When the door opened to reveal a very distressed and somewhat deranged looking butler, Belle French thought that it hadn’t been one of her best decisions to deliver the thick manila envelope on her way home after work. Earlier that day, when she had told her employer Mr. Jones that it would be absolutely no trouble at all to take the paperwork to the clients house, since it wouldn’t even be that much of a detour, she had counted on handing the envelope over to the butler and be gone. 

Now said butler looked at her as if she was sent from heaven, shaking and white as the sheets her landlady was so proud of. Belle shifted from one foot to the other and tried to bring the manila envelope that she still held extended to the man’s attention, but he didn’t even look at her hand. Instead, he grabbed her arm and yanked her inside, as if she was a ragdoll. Belle squeaked, but before she could protest to that infamous behavior, the butler slammed the door shut and let go of her arm. 

“Excuse me”, she said with as much countenance as she could muster, “but I’m only here to deliver the papers Dr. Jekyll ordered from his lawyer.” 

This time the butler looked at the envelope she shoved at him, and he flinched, as if she was trying to stab him with it. 

“You’re not the harlot?” he asked, and he sounded almost desperate. But every single bit of pity Belle might have felt before vanished in the blink of an eye. 

“The  what ? I am most certainly not.” She still pinned the envelope against his chest, but he showed no inclination of taking it. Only when she gave it another push, he looked down and paled even more. Mrs. Lucas would have been over the moon if she managed to get her sheets that white. 

“I’m so sorry, Miss”, he stammered, but he wasn’t nearly sorry enough to get back on her good side. 

“Miss French”, she said, her voice even in her own ears cold. “Now, can I deliver these papers to Dr. Jekyll?” 

The butler squirmed and cleared his throat. “Dr. Jekyll’s out”, he said.

“Then I just give them to you.” She wanted to leave this house as fast as she possibly could. And next time her employer had something to deliver, he could do it himself. 

Still the butler didn’t take the papers, and Belle was close to just drop them and leave, when a high pitched sound rang through the hall and sent a shiver down her spine. 

“Has that strumpet finally arrived?” The voice dripped with something sticky and disgusting, something that made Belle’s insides turn upside down, and she whirled around to face the creature who owned that voice. A man danced down the broad stairs that led into the hall, and his mad giggle made her want to cover her ears and curl into a ball underneath the carpet. But instead of shrinking away like the butler, who suddenly melted into the tapestries, she squared her shoulders and tightened her spine. 

“I’m neither harlot nor strumpet. I’m Mr. Jones’ clerk.” 

The man stepped into the light that fell through the window above the door, and Belle noticed for the first time his repugnant appearance. His skin was the most unhealthy yellow she had ever seen, and it appeared to be scaly like the skin of a reptile. He must have a terrible disease, she thought. She tried to look away, not to show any signs of revulsion, but the man had seen the brief flicker of uneasiness on her face. He stepped even closer, his lips drawn back in a snarl over his rotten teeth, and Belle tried to shield herself with the envelope in her arms.

“Don’t you like what you see, dearie?” 

“Well, I never saw a man with worse manners, if that’s what you’re asking. And my name is French. Belle French. Who are you?”” Her voice was as steady as a rock, and Belle congratulated herself silently on that. The yellow man looked slightly taken aback, and he even stepped back, giving her space to breathe.

“Hyde”, he said, and his voice was almost normal then. Belle cocked her head, clutching the thick envelope tighter to her chest.

“Why should I hide?” she asked, and flinched when he burst out in nasty giggles again.

“The name’s Hyde. I’m a friend of Dr. Jekyll.” 

“Well, Mr. Hyde, as I said, I’m just here to drop this paperwork. If you’d be so kind as to give it to Dr. Jekyll, since that butler seems to have vanished……” Belle looked around, but this chicken of a butler had abandoned her in earnest. She was all alone with this terrifying yellow man, and the realization of that made her want to dissolve into thin air. 

“I can do that, dearie”, Mr. Hyde said, and Belle decided not to insist on her name. She wasn’t interested in discussion. When she extended the papers once again, he took them, and his hand touched the skin on the back of her hand. For half a heartbeat Belle forgot to breathe, and she wondered how skin that looked so ugly could feel dry and warm and not at all slimy and repulsive. Then the moment was gone, and she straightened and turned around to let herself out. 

“You’re sure you don’t wanna change profession?” he asked, and Belle slammed the door shut behind her more disgusted and angrier than she ever felt before. How could this beast dare to talk to her like that! 

She hesitated for a split second, one foot still on the steps, ready to turn around and give him a piece of her mind, but then she took a deep breath and walked away. When she looked back one last time, almost on the corner of the street, she thought she saw a curtain move in one of the windows, and she almost felt like a dirty stare was touching her, creeping over her skin and poking into her thoughts. She shivered and hastened her steps, determined never to set a foot in that house again. 

  



	2. Two

Mr. Jones was kind of fickle the next morning. He tiptoed around Belle, glancing at her ever so often, but each time she tried to catch his eyes, he looked away as if he wasn’t even aware of her presence. Finally she slammed some papers on his desk, folded her arms and stared at him, until he could no longer ignore her. 

“Is there something wrong?” she asked, and she tried very hard to be polite about it. 

“Um…Were you able to deliver the paperwork to Dr. Jekyll?”

“Yes.” That couldn’t be all. There had to be something else. Mr. Jones was never that uneasy. But now he shuffled the papers on his desk around, harrumphed and tried to dismiss her without actually looking at her. She wasn’t that easy to dismiss.

“However, Dr. Jekyll was out. His friend took the contract, after he mistook me for a harlot.” 

“He…What?” His face made her almost laugh, and she bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from snickering. He deserved this. 

“I’m not going to deliver something to Dr. Jekyll again. Ever.” 

Mr. Jones hurried a nod and mumbled something that sounded like “of course not, no”, but Belle wasn’t sure. She left his office to get back behind her desk, and around noon, Mr. Jones’ cousin arrived to take him for a walk. Her employer seemed more than happy to get out, and Belle couldn’t blame him for that. The air in the small office seemed thick and heavy, and as soon as Mr. Jones was out, she opened the window behind her desk to let some air in. 

Mr. Jones was usually gone for at least an hour, and Belle used that time to drink some tea, eat something and read a book. She had her mouth full with some of Mrs. Lucas’ delicious pastry when the door opened and a gentleman stepped in. 

He looked at Belle behind her desk, her cheeks stuffed and crumbs all over the front of her dress, and he seemed lost for a moment. Belle tried to swallow, but she choked and started to cough violently. The gentleman rushed at her, dropping his walking stick on his way and nearly tripping over it. He started to clap her on her back, but he wasn’t delicate about it, and Belle was torn between embarrassment and anger. 

“Thank you”, she finally choked out, and he stopped rapping her between her shoulders. She glared at him, observing his rather elegant appearance with his perfect fitting suit and his black kid gloves. He retreated carefully, as if not to startle her, and bent down to fetch his cane, a rather pompous one with an etched golden handle.

“How can I help you?” she asked, when he made no sign of introducing himself to her.

His nose twitched, and his jaw set in a way that told Belle how much he hated to be there right at this moment. He looked as if she had offended him. As if it was a chore to be bothered with some random clerk. 

“I’m here to make apologies”, he said. 

“Well, Mr. Jones is out, perhaps if you want to come back later…” 

He didn’t let her finish.

“I’m here to apologize to you. You’re Belle French, right?” 

Belle wasn’t sure how to respond. She was almost certain she didn’t know this man. Why should he feel the need to apologize to her? He looked right into her eyes, and Belle cleared her throat to get rid of the scratchy feeling itching on her vocal chords. When she didn’t answer, he spoke again.

“You are Belle French?” 

“Yes, but…” 

Again he didn’t let her finish.

“I was told you were at my house yesterday and one of my acquaintances was unforgivably rude to you.” 

Then it dawned her. “You’re Dr. Jekyll.” 

At that he looked bewildered, like it never occurred to him that she might not know him. 

“Of course I am. Who else would I be?”

Belle shrugged. Sometimes she wondered about men and their simple minds. Not one of them ever seemed to have any doubts of his own importance to the rest of Creation. Certainly not this one in his perfect clothes, his perfect nose and his captivating grace that was not in the least affected by his need of a cane. Belle pushed back those inappropriate thoughts creeping into her mind and tried to smile politely.

“I don’t know. But if anyone should apologize, then it should be your friend”, she said.

Dr. Jekyll flinched, and his face contorted for a brief moment. 

“Mr. Hyde is certainly not my friend”, he said, and his voice was strained. Belle cocked her head and waited for him to elaborate his cryptic words – after all, Mr. Hyde had called himself a friend, and if he was not, then it was at least unusual for him to stay at Dr. Jekyll’s house while the latter was gone – but the Doctor didn’t say anything further. 

“However. It is very kind of you to come by, but there is absolutely no need for apologies. I’m sure I’ll never encounter Mr. Hyde again.”” Belle got to her feet, determined to show Dr. Jekyll out, but when she stepped around her desk to do so, she found him blocking her way. He didn’t move at all, and when Belle frowned at him, he just bent his head as if he wanted to duck under her glare. 

“Please”, he said, “let me at least give you something to make up for this inexcusable affront you suffered.” 

She wanted to say no, and not in a nice way, though she tried hard to act like a lady most of the times, but she hesitated. She didn’t want anything, didn’t need anything, but he looked at her like the tiny dog of her father’s cousin when it was begging for a treat. As if he was truly pained by his friend’s behavior. 

“You’re a Doctor, aren’t you?” she asked. 

“Yes”, he said, baffled, “That’s why I’m called Dr. Jekyll.”

“Well, you could do my a favor. My landlady has a granddaughter who is plagued by some kind of illness. It would be incredibly kind of you to take a look at her.”

“Well, of course I could…” 

This time Belle didn’t let him finish.

“Free of charge”, she said. It was not a question, and he was wise enough not to make any objections.

“It will be my pleasure.” He bowed, and Belle felt her heart skip a beat at this ridiculous gesture. She was no highborn Lady, and no one ever bowed at her before. When he straightened up, a strange smile was on his lips, and his voice was a low growl when he took his leave. Only when he was out the door and she looked down, she realized that she still was covered in pastry crumbs. She didn’t get back her normal complexion until Mr. Jones returned from his walk and told her to refresh herself because she looked “kind of feverish”. 

  


  



	3. Three

Belle didn’t have to wait long for Dr. Jekyll to fulfill his promise. The next day, when Mr. Jones left for his midday walk with his cousin Jefferson, Jekyll came back to the office. 

“If it is at your convenience now, you may take me to the patient”, he said after another dashing bow. His presence seemed to drain the air of oxygen, and Belle was glad to take his offer and leave her desk. Though, when he took her hand and placed it on his arm to guide her through the streets, she felt like there was not much more air outside than in the office. 

Their first steps side by side were clumsy, since he not only had his cane, but also carried a large leather case. He had placed her hand on the arm that held the cane, and she had to adapt to the rhythm in which he swung the cane forward with each step. They didn’t speak until they left the more respectable street where the office was situated. Only when they were walking in perfect matching strides, he started to inquire about the symptoms that Mrs. Lucas’ granddaughter showed, and Belle answered as extensively as she could, eager to get over the awkward silence that had accompanied their walk at first. 

“She’s having fits, mostly at night. Mrs. Lucas has to lock her up then, because she tears apart the furniture otherwise, and she cries and howls in the most unnerving ways.” 

“Hm. Is she in pain?” He spoke softly, and he furrowed his brows and licked his lower lip. 

“I don’t know. She doesn’t remember anything when it has passed. She has to be, I think. No one tears apart solid wood without being in sincere pain, don’t you think?”

He looked at her, his stare piercing through her, and Belle’s face flushed with heat. He looked as if she had said something utterly stupid, and she had to keep herself from defending her words. But that would only make it worse, so she decided to keep still. At last he looked away, and Belle was relieved at that.

“I believe so”, he murmured, but he didn’t sound very convinced. They fell silent again until they reached the house of Mrs. Lucas. 

Ruby lay in her bed, covered with thick woolen blankets and white as paper against the red cushions. While Dr. Jekyll touched her skin, feeling her temperature and checking her eyes, Ruby moaned softly. Mrs. Lucas stood beside the bed, tapping her folded arms with her fingers and observing everything the Doctor did with sharp eyes. Belle tried to comfort her landlady by slipping her arms around her shoulders, but Mrs. Lucas shrugged her off. She was a down to earth kind of woman that needed neither comfort nor pity, and she had no inhibition of voicing this. 

“When was the last fit?”, Jekyll asked. 

“The night before last”, Mrs. Lucas said. “I know it was almost as bright as day, the moon was so big. Made it easy to see. Didn’t need any candles.” 

“Hm.” Jekyll took out a pocket watch and felt Ruby’s pulse on her wrist. He made a bit of a show of it, Belle thought, and she was sure there were better places to feel one’s pulse. The neck for instance. She imagined the Doctor feeling her pulse at the side of her neck, and suddenly her palms were all sticky and sweaty. She flicked her tongue over her dry lips and chased off those images. There was no need for him to feel her pulse, unless she fainted right then and there. She certainly felt like fainting. But then she straightened her back and dried her sticky palms in the folds of her dress, telling herself silently that Belle French would under no circumstances whatsoever faint, ever. Surely not because some silly notions of a man touching her skin right beneath her throat, his thumb keeping her chin still and his forefinger pressing gently into the side of her neck. She drew a heavy breath and tried to smile when Mrs. Lucas’ sharp eyes flicked to her face. Belle was thankful for the curtains and the dim light in Ruby’s room, since she was almost sure her face was as red as Ruby’s knitted blankets. 

Dr. Jekyll laid down Ruby’s hand, with as much care as if it was in danger of shattering, and began rummaging around in his leather case. He produced a small glass phial holding a light blue liquid and gave it to Mrs. Lucas.

“Give her three drops of this the next time she has a fit. It will gentle the rage, and hopefully she won’t shred any more furniture.” He got up to his feet and nodded to Mrs. Lucas, who eyed the phial with her eyebrows raised so high they were almost vanishing beneath her hairline. After shutting his leather case and putting back on his gloves, Jekyll smiled at Belle, a smile that somehow seemed to make his nose thinner and even more perfect. Belle had never seen a man smile with his nose, and she still contemplated this fact when she left the house with him. When they reached the street she paused, unsure and somewhat flustered. He came to a halt at her side, far too close for her to feel secure. 

“Shall I accompany you back?” he asked, and for just one heartbeat Belle considered to refuse. Then she remembered to be polite, and she nodded and placed her hand on his arm once again. This time they fell in perfectly harmonized steps at once, almost as if they had walked together for years. 

When he had delivered her safely to the office, they parted on the steps before the ornate building. He bowed again before he turned around and walked away, and Belle stood and watched him disappear around a corner. She was not sure if she’d ever see him again, since he hadn’t insinuated with one word that they should meet again. And why should they? She was far below his rank, just a simple clerk he felt not more than obligated to apologize to once. And this had nothing to do with her as a person. Instead it originated in his conscientiousness. His friend had insulted her in his house. This was it. She turned to go inside, and she glanced one last time over her shoulder when she thought she saw an yellow face, ugly and contorted, with flashy eyes, staring at her from the corner. But when she looked, it was gone. For the rest of the day, Belle felt uneasy and nauseous, as if something had touched her with filthy fingers deep inside and wriggled snakelike inside her belly. 

  



	4. Four

As Belle had anticipated, she heard nothing of Dr. Jekyll over the next few days. She was worried, not because she didn’t hear from him, but because she couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about it. After all, she had met him only twice. She tried to go back to her rational self, tried reasoning herself into believing that he meant nothing to her. Certainly she didn’t mean anything to him. 

But she couldn’t stop wondering, and this annoyed her more than she wanted to admit. She tried to work as meticulously as ever, being careful to file every document neatly away, sharpen every pen precisely and even lay them out on her desk – and the desk of Mr. Jones –– exactly aligned. She painstakingly painted file numbers and concentrated in each word in every letter she wrote for Mr. Jones, until he himself lost his patience and asked unnerved what the bloody hell was wrong with her. 

She stared at him and tried to find an answer that didn’t reveal her as the most hopeless romantic .

“What do you mean?” she asked at last, and at this he thrust his hands in the air and muttered something about bloody girls and their chicken wits. 

“Are you complaining about my work?” she asked then, because she was pretty sure he couldn’t mean to say she was dimwitted. She even raised her eyebrows to make him aware of the dangerous waters he was treading, and he was smart enough to notice. 

“No, of course not. Just carry on.” And at that he turned around and stepped back into his office, leaving her with the realization that she hadn’t been herself lately. When Mr. Jefferson came to take Mr. Jones to their daily promenade, she sat down to finish the book she was reading, and she actually managed it this time. Usually she needed no more than one or two days to finish a book, but these past days she hadn’t been able to take the words in and had to start over and over. 

When Mr. Jones returned, he seemed to be in a very dark mood. He slammed the door to his office shut, and she heard him rummaging around, cursing and talking to himself. She couldn’t make out the words, but she jumped when something banged against the door inside his office. Shortly after the noise subsided, he opened the door again.

“Miss French, would you please send a note to my friend Dr. Whale and ask him if I could join him for dinner this evening?”

Belle nodded, trying not to stare at his disheveled hair and his ruffled clothing. 

“And would you please clean away the mess in my office? Something toppled over the trash bin.”

Something indeed had, and Belle stared at the chaos he had produced in his office. 

“What did you do?” she asked, and he squirmed and shifted around, and Belle even saw a faint red glow on his cheeks.

“Just clean it up, will you?” 

“Of course.” If he didn’t want to tell her what this was about, fine. She didn’t need to know. Just when she was finished clearing up the mess, he spoke again, as if he suddenly remembered something.

“Miss French, please send another note to Dr. Jekyll. He needs to come to my office at his earliest convenience.” 

Belle wrote both notes and called one of the boys from the street that ran errands to send him to Dr. Jekyll and Dr. Whale. When she gave the boy his penny and the notes, she trembled at the thought of Dr. Jekyll coming by. But she banished this notion at once. 

Dr. Jekyll didn’t come by that day, but on her way home, Belle thought she saw the yellow face of Mr. Hyde in the distance. She couldn’t be sure, though. There were too many people on the streets, going about their business, and Belle might have mistaken one of them for the monstrous Mr. Hyde. It could be her imagination. 

It was not until two days later that Dr. Jekyll came by. The whole time Mr. Jones was in a bad temper, but Belle was not able to find out what this was about. He had been to dinner with Dr. Whale, and Belle thought he might have upset his stomach, since she had never before seen him this grumpy.

Dr. Jekyll looked as well-groomed as ever when he entered the office, but there was a haggard look about his face. Belle couldn’t exactly say what it was, but he seemed weary and there was a feverish look in his eyes. He seemed more in need of a cane than she had ever seen him. But he was as courteous towards her as before, bowing gracefully and smiling in a way that made Belle’s heart jump into her throat. 

When he turned towards Mr. Jones, however, the smile faded from his face, and he furrowed his brows.

“Mr. Jones, please explain to me what this is about.” His voice vibrated inside Belle, but not in the way it had resonated with her before. This time he sounded cold. Her employer stepped aside and gestured for Dr. Jekyll to come into his office, and he closed the door behind them. Though Belle listened hard – and scolded herself silently for this – she didn’t hear a word. When the door opened again and Dr. Jekyll stepped out, she began shuffling papers to look occupied, but he didn’t so much as glance at her. 

“Do it as we discussed it, Jones. I know it may seem peculiar and unreasonable to you, but I trust him.” 

Mr. Jones looked as if he was forced to swallow a handful of worms as he followed Dr. Jekyll out of his office, but he nodded. Dr. Jekyll bowed one last time to Belle, curtly and without really looking at her, before he left. Mr. Jones looked after him and muttered something under his breath, but Belle was sure he said something like “Bloody fool” before he turned and trotted back into his office. Later he called Belle and gave her a stack of paper to put it in an envelope. 

“And would you be so kind as to deliver it to Dr. Jekyll”, he added, when she already was half out of the door. Belle froze and turned back around, the papers clutched to her chest.

“I told you, I’m not going back to this house.” She tried to sound matter of fact, when in reality she felt terrified. Mr. Jones looked at her, one of his brows raised high and his nostrils widened in irritation. 

“Did Dr. Jekyll not apologize?” he asked. He knew damn well he had. 

“Yes, but…” He didn’t let her finish.

“Do I need to hire someone else?” 

“You mean like an errand boy? That would actually be a good idea.” 

“No, Miss French, I don’t mean an errand boy. Do you want to keep your job?” 

Belle clenched her jaw and gritted her teeth. If there was one thing she couldn’t afford then it was to lose her employment. She would have to go back to her father. She would have to marry. Avoiding this had been the only reason she left the countryside in the first place. Her father had not wanted her to go to town, had not wanted her to work. And his condition on her leaving had been that she found a position as a clerk, not as a seamstress or a worker in a factory. She did  not want to go back. So she nodded, because she was not able to speak without her voice shaking in anger. Mr. Jones smiled.

“That’s what I thought.” 

She had to bite back the response that was on her tongue, but it left a taste like putrid meat in her throat. 

The foul taste was still there when she used the metal knocker on Dr. Jekyll’s door. She had decided not to step inside, under no circumstances. Not even if Dr. Jekyll personally carried her over the threshold. But of course it wasn’t Dr. Jekyll who opened the door. He had his butler for that. When the butler recognized her, his face reddened and sweat formed on his forehead, right beneath his red hair, and his now overall red appearance was almost pitiable. 

“Miss French” he stammered, and Belle thought he looked almost as frightened of her as he had been of Mr. Hyde. Nevertheless, Belle kept her distance, so he couldn’t yank her inside again.

“I have to deliver these papers”, she said.

“Yes, of course. Please, come in.” He opened the door wider and gestured for her to step in, but Belle didn’t move.

“I rather not”, she said and almost tossed the envelope at him. He took the papers and Belle turned and hurried away. 

She had not yet reached the corner when she heard someone call her name. She looked back, torn between the longing to hasten her steps and her curiosity. To her amazement she saw Dr. Jekyll trying to catch up with her. She didn’t even realize she had halted until he reached her and frowned down at her.

“Miss French, are you afraid of me?” His voice was a deep growl, and Belle felt her stomach drop at least a foot. 

“What?” 

“If you aren’t afraid, then why are you running as if there’s a devil at your heels?” 

“I was only at your place to deliver your paperwork. There was no reason to draw this out. No reason to come inside.” That sounded reasonable, at least in her own mind. 

“So you’re not afraid of me?” he asked.

“Why on earth should I be afraid of you?” Afraid of his friend and his house, yes. But she wouldn’t say that out loud. He didn’t look as if he believed her. His frown deepened and his brows almost made a knot above his eyes. 

“Then why were you running?”

“I wasn’t running.” She had only been walking very fast. There was nothing wrong about that.

“Miss French, do you take me for a fool?”

Belle swallowed. His eyes pierced through her, and heat crept up her neck. 

“Of course not, no. It’s just…” She trailed off, feeling utterly stupid for letting her fear dictate her actions. Fear of a man she had only met once. And although he had been nasty and thoroughly unpleasant, he had done nothing to deserve her fear. Her contempt, maybe, because he behaved so disrespectful. But not fear. And above all else, this was not the way she wanted to be. She wanted to be brave, and to do so, she had to face her fear. “It’s Mr. Hyde”, she said at last.

Dr. Jekyll cocked his head. “And you don’t trust me to keep you safe in my own house?” 

“That is a very odd question, since we don’t know each other very well, and there is therefore no reason at all for me to trust you. Or distrust you, for that matter.” Belle met his eyes and raised her brow. The frown on his face had subsided, but still he looked as if she had flung something dead at him. 

“And if I promised to never let Mr. Hyde near you, would you come to dinner at my house?” 

Did he take her for a cocotte? 

“Why on earth would you think it appropriate for me to eat at your house? With you?” Belle heard the sharpness in her voice, but she didn’t care. He stepped back, and he held his cane up in front of him almost as if he was afraid she’d lunge at him. He’d better be afraid. And he’d better be damn careful what he said next. 

“I just thought…” 

Belle waited, but he didn’t continue.

“You just thought what? That a woman living on her own in the city couldn’t be possibly respectable?” 

“God, no. Please, take my apologies if I have offended you. I just wanted to get to know you.” He seemed positively distressed now. Belle’s anger deflated, and heat set her cheeks aflame.

“Please, stop apologizing. I should be sorry.” She bit her lip and cast down her eyes, as she didn’t dare to look at him. He wanted to get to know her. He wanted to spend time with her. After she spent days and days thinking about him, that one thought never crossed her mind. 

“So…dinner?” he asked, and Belle nodded in silence. 

“Then we have a deal. I’ll send you an invitation.” And before she could say anything else, he turned and walked away. Belle looked after him, and she thought she noticed a sprightliness in his steps that hadn’t been there before.

“What just happened?” she murmured to herself, before she, too, made her way home. She really hoped that he would keep his promise and keep away that friend of his.

  



	5. Five

Ruby didn’t believe her. She was still recovering from her last fit, but since they usually came in turns every few weeks and the last had been more than a week ago, Mrs. Lucas thought that Ruby could just as well scrub the floors. Now she looked up at Belle, her sleeves rolled up and a smear of dirt on her cheek and managed to make a face of utter disbelief without actually so much as wrinkle her skin. It was all in her eyebrows, shaped like wings and dark in Ruby’s pale face.

“But why would he want to know you?” Ruby asked again. She asked for the third time, and Belle began to feel slightly annoyed.

“And why not? Is it so hard to believe that a man could actually look at me and be curious about me?”

Ruby dropped the scrubbing brush and clapped her hands to her mouth. “Of course not! Belle, I’m sorry!”

Belle rolled her eyes at Ruby. Her friend giggled and resumed scrubbing, while Belle picked up the book she was reading to Ruby. Since she had told Ruby every detail about her encounter with Dr. Jekyll and about his constant apologizing, Ruby had made fun of her and apologized at every chance she got. Belle had only read a few sentences, when Ruby dropped the brush again.

“Don’t you think he’s kind of old?”

Belle stared at Ruby who creased her nose and appeared to be completely grossed out.

“Dr. Jekyll? He’s not that old. But to be honest, it’s hard to tell. And anyway, it’s not like we were starting an affair or something. We’ll probably just talk.” Belle arranged her skirts around her knees and avoided to look at Ruby.

“Yeah, probably. Do you think he wants to marry you?”

“Ruby!” Belle clapped her book shut and jumped to her feet. “Why would you say that? I don’t even know him!”

“You know him well enough to talk about him. All. The. Time.” Ruby made her dying face, but Belle didn’t think it funny.

“I’m going now.”

“Belle, wait, I’m sorry!” But Belle didn’t wait. As much as she loved Ruby, her friend could be a real pest.

The next day during Mr. Jones’ midday promenade, his friend Dr. Whale came to the office. Belle wondered why everyone kept showing up during that time, when the one reliable thing about Mr. Jones was his midday walk with his cousin. It was not as if this was news to anyone. Dr. Whale smiled at her in his most flamboyant manner, and his voice had a sound to it that felt like the sticky film that sugar canes formed on one’s teeth.

“So, where’s my friend today?”, he asked, as if he didn’t know. Belle fought down the urge to tell him that her face was not on her chest, but she couldn’t keep the contempt out of her voice.

“He and Mr. Jefferson are taking a walk. Like every day at this time. “ Her tone must have registered with him, because his eyes left her chest and went actually up to her face.

“Is he now? Well, would you tell him that I inquired about Mr. Hyde, and Jekyll actually came by to talk to me about his acquaintance, and as far as I can tell he’s not in any kind of troubled dependency. Though this alliance of his is certainly unfortunate, there’s nothing to do about it. Jones should give it a rest.”

Belle, who had started to scribble down notes when he started talking, let the pen sink and just stared at him. When Whale noticed that she didn’t take any more notes, he frowned.

“Don’t you need to write that down?”, he asked.

“Why? Because I possibly can’t remember two sentences longer than a chicken needs to lay an egg?”

Whale was immune to sarcasm. “Yes”, he said, and Belle took a deep breath and reminded herself to stay calm. Perhaps it was her fault. She had read way too many books. A reading woman was in constant danger of actually having thoughts of her own. She was almost certain that Whale had his own kind of brilliancy, but it sure wasn’t in his ability of perception. He was pitifully blind to everything about her, with exception of her breasts, and she assumed that this extended to his interaction with every single human being. He couldn’t possibly be aware of the danger he was in, the way he ignored her face.

“Well, just don’t forget to tell it to Jones. He’s in a bit of a frenzy over this whole thing.”

Belle longed to ask which thing he meant. It burned on her tongue and tingled on her lips, but she remained silent. Her employer had been out of sorts lately, and apparently it had to do with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. And sure enough, when she relayed Whale’s message to him, Mr. Jones started to swear again.

“Unfortunate alliance! No troubled dependency! Just tell me, Miss French, why would someone like the appraised Dr. Jekyll bequeath all his possessions to filthy scum like this Mr. Hyde if there wasn’t some kind of shenanigans going on?” He didn’t really want her to answer, Belle could tell, because he rambled on and on without really looking at her or waiting for her to say something. Instead his words made less and less sense to Belle. She stood in the doorway of his office, listening to him cursing and saying things like “that brute could have killed him” and “never saw something more depraved in my life”, but she couldn’t make sense of it, and if she was honest with herself – and she always was – she didn’t want to.

But everything she had heard, from Mr. Jones as well as from Whale, had made her uneasy. She didn’t look forward to her dinner with Dr. Jekyll with the same anticipation as before. When his invitation finally arrived, written on paper that felt like silk beneath her fingertips, she was on the verge of declining. Her nerves tingled as she stared down on his writing, the letters slanting gracefully, cutting the white of the paper like sharp black blades. She had to put the letter down, because her hands started trembling. “Don’t you chicken out of this” she whispered to herself. He just wanted to get to know her. There was no indication of him wanting anything else, but then, why should he want to know her at all? Before she could think too much about it, she scribbled her acceptance on a piece of paper, not nearly as white or smooth as his, and sent it back with the boy that had delivered the snowy envelope earlier. From the moment on the boy scurried off until she finally knocked at Dr. Jekyll’s door on Sunday and was admitted by his red haired butler, she felt queasy and positively seasick.

Dr. Jekyll came to greet her in the hall, and Belle could tell by the halting smile that quivered around his lips, that he was as nervous as she was herself. This calmed her down, though she wondered why he might feel antsy.

“So, Miss French, how is Miss Lucas?”, he asked when they both were seated on the small table that was set beneath a window of his enormous dining room. There was a big table at the center of the room as well, but the small one was cozier and, Belle had to admit it with a quick flutter deep inside her belly, much more intimate.

“All too well”, Belle said, thinking of Ruby and her teasing as Belle tried to decide which one of her three dresses she was going to wear to their dinner.

“I’m glad to hear it. Did she have another fit yet?”

“No. But they’re always a few weeks apart, so there’s no saying if your medicament will actually help.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will.” There was a thin smile on his lips, as if he remembered a joke only he could understand. Belle didn’t like that smile. He must have seen it on her face, because he sobered his expression and offered her some wine. She sipped on the heavy red Burgundy, roaming her mind for something to say.

“Did you send Mr. Hyde away for the evening?”, she asked at last, since everything else failed her. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he cocked his head.

“Hyde doesn’t live here”, he said, and his voice dripped with contempt. “He has his own quarters elsewhere.”

This time it was Belle who tilted her head. “Excuse me for asking this, but if you don’t like him, why…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Why did I appoint him as my heir? Why do I spend time with him? Allow him to my house?”

“Exactly.”

At this moment their dinner was served, and Belle feared he might use it as an excuse not to answer. He folded his napkin neatly over his lap and smoothed it with his palms, while Belle’s gaze followed each meticulous move of his hands, mesmerized by their delicacy. When he spoke again she flinched, ripped out of her contemplation.

“Hyde is…difficult”, he said. “He is different. Society is restricted by a strong set of moral codes, instated to provide a certain degree of security to its subjects. Hyde strongly objects to comply to any of those ethics. He takes what he wants, without any reserve or consideration. He freed himself from morality.”

While he was talking, Jekyll’s eyes had lost their focus, staring into a faraway distance. Belle shivered.

“You sound as if you admire him”, she said. Suddenly his focus was back on her. She felt his gaze as if he was poking her with a rapier.

“Oh no, I detest him. But you have to admit that there are certain perks in his way of living.”

“I don’t think so, no. Depravity such as his can only create further corruption. You need sound soil for something to grow in it. I don’t think that there is good in him.”

Jekyll watched her, silent for a few moments, before he slowly nodded. “I suspect you’re right. But you met him only once. Perhaps your perception of him would change if you were to meet him again.”

There was almost something like hope in his voice, a longing for acceptance that Belle sometimes had encountered in her pups back home, in their soft whimpering noises, their violently waggling tails and their begging to get their naked bellies scratched. The thought of stroking Jekyll’s naked belly made her blush instantly.

“Yes, I suspect that’s possible”, she said, and to cover up her embarrassment she took a bite of her meat and immediately choked on it. She started coughing violently, trying to get rid of the piece of meat that blocked her airway, and again it was Jekyll who rescued her. He rushed to her side and started clapping her back, and at last she managed to spit out that damn thing. She had to be as red as a lobster, but at least every thought of naked bellies was thoroughly banished.

“You have to eat more careful, Miss French. I’m not always around to rescue you.” He chuckled, and Belle wished to vanish in a puff of smoke then and there. Gently, as if he feared she might escape at any moment, he took her chin and tilted her head up to face him. His fingertips were warm and dry on her skin, and a tickle expanded from her jaw, from where he touched her, and trickled down the side of her neck, down to her chest. He dabbed the corner of her mouth with his napkin, softly, as if she was too delicate to be touched.

Belle thought he might bend down then and kiss her, but he straightened his back and sat back down on his chair. She didn’t know if she was disappointed at this or relieved. They finished their meal, though Belle could hardly get anything down, and when their plates were cleared away, he guided her to a chaise longue and put another glass of wine in her hand. She sipped at it, not sure what to say. He sat down beside her, his knee almost touching hers, and watched her for a moment.

“Did you enjoy the meal?”, he asked, sounding as helpless as she felt.

“You mean other than nearly choking on it? I suppose so, yes.” She bit her lip and hoped she didn’t sound sarcastic. Sometimes she didn’t quite manage to reign in her tongue, and then something rude slipped out. Only when she was lucky enough to talk to someone as immune to irony as Dr. Whale, she allowed herself sometimes to let it get the better of her. But Jekyll chuckled again, and the sound of it rippled down her spine and turned her legs to jelly. Suddenly she was glad she was already sitting.

“Yes, sometimes even eating can become dangerous. Let’s hope there aren’t any more dangers in store for you today.”

She placed her glass carefully on a small table beside the chaise longue and folded her hands in her lap. Though he sounded lightly and amused, there was something else in his voice.

“Well, you promised to keep me safe. If anything should happen to me, it’d be clearly at your expense.” Her words sounded daring in her own ears, but she forced herself to meet his eyes.

“It’d be my loss, too.”

Her heart jumped in her chest and every hair on her scalp prickled. His voice was not more than a low growl, fluttering down her spine and coming to a rest beneath her belly button. She had to fight to keep her breathing steady. Then she did something that surprised herself as much as him: She leaned towards him and placed her lips on his, feeling his lips soften beneath hers and his breath catching in his throat. It lasted only a few heartbeats, then she drew back. He looked dazed, utterly taken by surprise, as if it was only slowly dawning on him what had happened. Then something changed in his eyes, rippled over his skin, and he drew back his lips in a snarl. For one terrifying moment he stared at her with this contorted face, then he leaped to his feet and backed away. Belle was frozen, unable to react or even comprehend what was happening.

“I have to go” he choked out before turning on his heel and rushing out of the room.

Belle stared at the door where he had stormed out. Her heart was breaking into pieces inside her chest, each shard cutting deep into her flesh and turning her insides to mush. She was unable to move for several minutes, she just sat there, paralyzed.

Steps rang through the hall, and the red haired butler rushed in. He took her arm and tried to bring her to her feet, but her flesh had turned to stone and she stayed where she was.

“Miss French, please, you have to go. Quick now, quick!” The man tugged at her arm, tried to drag her to her feet, and his voice was hushed and terrified. Belle tried to focus on him. What was he trying to say?

“Miss French, hurry!”

“What’s your name?” she asked, and her question earned her an exasperated look from the butler.

“Hopper. Please, Miss French, you have to go!” Slowly she got to her feet, searching her insides for the remains of her dignity, when there was this terrible sound again. This mad giggle that she knew now to belong to Mr. Hyde. She dropped back on the chaise longue, and Hopper let go of her arm and weaseled away.

“Ah, look who’s come back! So you did change profession after all?” His high pitched voice crept through her, and Belle wanted to roll in stinging nettles to get rid of the feeling it created. She looked up and saw him standing in the doorway, his clothes a disheveled mess, his teeth glinting as yellow as his skin in the candlelight. In this moment she almost hated him. She had never hated before, but she recognized the bile in her throat and the burning heat that rushed through her veins as hatred.

“I have not.” She managed to come to her feet, but she didn’t move as long as he blocked the door. His dark eyes roamed her body, and Belle clenched her teeth. She knew with absolute clarity that he was a beast, waiting for his prey to move. She was his prey. She remembered Jekyll’s words: “He takes what he wants.” And even innocent Belle knew what Hyde wanted, saw it in his eyes and in the widened nostrils, in his face that trembled with hunger. He smiled and took a step towards her, and Belle nearly tripped over the chaise longue when she backed away. He halted, the tension in his body palpable.

“Sit, please”, he said, and once again Belle dropped down. It was not that she wanted to obey, her knees simply gave in. Hyde pranced into the room, giggling childishly, and for one brief moment Belle thought about running. But something pinned her down, and she was not sure what it was.

Hyde moved almost like a dancer, and Belle recognized the natural grace of a predator in this. He stepped to the table that occupied the center of the room and hopped on its top to sit there, his legs crossed and his head cocked mockingly.

“Tell me, dearie, why do you hate me?” He was playing with her, like a cat played with the mouse before killing it. Perhaps, if she could distract him long enough, she could slip out. She had no intention of ending as a mouse.

“I don’t hate you. I barely know you.”

“Oh, everybody hates me for one reason or another.” He sounded amused, almost gleeful. “So, tell me, what’s your reason? Am I to yellow for your taste? I’ve been told my complexion is quite unhealthy.”

“No, it’s not your complexion.”

“Ah, but there is something! Tell me, dearie. Is it my teeth?”

“No, it’s not your teeth.”

“Yes, that would be quite shallow of you. What is it then? Since I haven’t done anything to you, there’s no possible reason for you to hate me.”

Belle stared at him. He sat there on the tabletop, glowing with glee, like a spider waiting for some poor insect to be caught in its sticky trap. And she was already caught in that net, entangled in something commingled out of fear, disgust and excitement. Especially that last part worried her. But she couldn’t deny that it was excitement that tingled in her nerves. Her scalp hadn’t stopped prickling since he entered the room.

“I’m waiting, dearie. You don’t want me to get impatient.” He giggled again, and the sound of it turned Belles stomach upside down. Do the brave thing, she thought. Face your fear.

“Well, I’ve been told you object to any kind of morality, for one”, she said. He nodded vigorously.

“Yes, yes, that’s true. I’m utterly depraved!” He snickered, baring his teeth like a snarling wolf. “What else?”

“Then, your abhorrent manners”, she said.

“Ah, but there has to be more. My manners are no worse than any other man’s.”

“Yes, they are. You’re stalking around as if you’re intending to eat someone.”

“Oh, perhaps I am intending to eat you…not literally, but still…” At this he jumped down from the tabletop and strode towards her.

Belle’s breath hitched in her throat. If she wanted to run, it had to be now.


	6. Six

Belle leapt to her feet, but she didn’t run yet. Her eyes flew from Hyde to the door. The space between her and her escape route seemed to be as wide as the sea, and there was no reason for Hyde to stop chasing her at the door. Chances of her escaping were pretty slim. So she squared her shoulders and watched him approaching her with swift strides. There was nothing in any of the books Belle ever read that prepared her for this. Her logic failed her. She was reduced to pure instinct, and her instinct told her to stay put and face the hunter, rather than running in panicked frenzy. 

He came to a halt only inches away from her, all too close, and the space between them seemed to drain from air. Belles breath quickened, and her heart thumped painfully in her chest. He lifted his hand but stopped short of her throat, right above the lace frills of her collar, without touching her skin. Belle didn’t dare to take her eyes off him. 

“Why don’t you run?” he asked, his voice only a whisper, and his hot breath condensed on her cheek.

“Why should I run?” She had difficulties pushing the words around the lump in her throat. 

“Because it’s much more fun to hunt you down.” She felt his nail graze her skin, trailing her throat down to the first tiny button of her dress, hidden between the lace frills at its front. 

Belle didn’t show her fear. To be honest, she wasn’t even sure if she still was afraid. He emanated something that skipped her brain and went right down to her loins. Perhaps it was a scent, something that attracted hummingbirds to flowers or blowflies to rotten meat. Belle stepped back. With him so close she seemed unable to think, and she needed desperately to think her way out of this. Jekyll was gone, and that butler – Hopper – would be of no help either. She took another step, with her back to the door, and Hyde closed the gap with one dancing step. She pressed her hand against his chest to stop him and almost gasped at the sensation of his skin beneath her palm, scaly and hard. 

“I’m not going to run and you won’t hunt me down. You will stay right here while I go home.” Though the ground beneath her feet seemed to be shaking, her voice didn’t quaver. 

“Oh, will I?” 

“Yes. And you never come near me again. Jekyll thought I might change my opinion about you if I were to know you better, but I’ve seen quite enough of you.”

Hyde snickered. “Jekyll said that? He’s a bigger fool then than I thought. What do you see in him, anyway?” He took another step towards her, and Belle had to retreat again, her hand still pressed to his chest. It was as if they were caught in a dance. 

“Jekyll is good.” She decided to ignore the shards of her broken heart that still cut through her insides. He had rejected her, but that didn’t change him. It only changed her. “He’s pained by your ruthlessness, and he tried to make up for it, though he was in no way obligated to do so.” 

“He’s a softhearted idiot who’s afraid to take what life offers him. I can assure you that I have no such reservations.” He bared his teeth in a terrible smile, and Belle tried to swallow down the ever growing lump in her throat. 

“Afraid, are you?” 

“No. You are going to let me go home now.” Her voice was firm. Her resolution not so much, but Belle chose to drop honesty with herself for once. 

“No one’s keeping you here, dearie. You can go if you want to. I’m willing to wait.” Belle was not sure if he wasn’t mocking her, waiting for her to turn away so he could lunge at her from behind. 

“Willing to wait for what?” 

He moved so fast Belle wasn’t even sure how it had happened when she found herself pinned against the wall, his body crushing hers and his lips pressed onto hers, their teeth colliding and her fists clawed into his shirt. And before she even could think about how to get away, or if she even wanted to, or even how to breathe again, he broke away from her, leaving her gasping for air and something to hold onto. He looked at her, his face a mask of greed and glee, and bursting with his monstrous giggle. 

“I’ll wait for you to come back for more, dearie.” 

For one brief moment Belle closed her eyes and took a deep breath. 

“Well then, until hell freezes over.” She turned, slowly and controlled, and walked out. When she walked across the hall, she heard his high pitched voice ringing after her.

“Don’t you worry, dearie, we’re going to unfreeze it again.”

Not till the heavy door of Jekyll’s house closed behind her did she let out a shaky laugh, and she clutched her sides, panting and fighting the urge to scratch off her clothes just to be able to breathe again. She sure was going to scrub her skin down to her bones with Ruby’s scrubbing brush when she’d get home. She realized that she had left her cloak inside the house, but she didn’t even think about going back in and fetch it. 

Not until she lay in her bed in the dark, she allowed herself to feel again. She reviewed the evening, tried to comprehend what had happened and tried to make sense of it. She didn’t sleep that night, and when she rose the next morning, she had resolved to ignoring her principle of honesty with herself a little longer. Something had awoken inside her, and she didn’t want to look at it. It reared its ugly head, wrecking her insides with sharp teeth, and Belle preferred to think herself sane, unscathed and most of all unchanged and unaffected by depravity. When Ruby tried to find out about the previous night, Belle glared at her friend.

“We’re not going to talk about this evening or Dr. Jekyll ever again. Ever.” 

For once in her life Ruby listened and didn’t dig deeper.

Belle still felt numb three days later when Dr. Jekyll’s butler Hopper came by the office, looking haggard and strained.

“I need to talk to Mr. Jones”, he said, and Belle led him to her employer’s room. She didn’t retreat, however, but listened what Hopper had to tell. 

“Dr. Jekyll has locked himself in his rooms and hasn’t come out since –“ The butler paused and flicked a brief glance at Belle. 

“Since Sunday?”, she asked, because there was no sense in concealing anything. Hopper nodded, and Mr. Jones looked from one to the other.

“Anyone up to tell me what this is about?”, he asked, and Belle shook her head. 

“He hasn’t come out for three days now, and I’m worried. He never locked himself away this long before.” 

“And why are you telling me this?” Jones asked, and his voice sounded rather uninterested.

“You have a spare key to the back of the house, and we’re afraid to break down the door, because…” The butler fell silent, and Jones straightened in his chair, his eyebrows lifted in alarm. 

“Because there could still be one certain Mr. Hyde with him”, Mr. Jones finished. “I see. Take your strongest footman with you and meet me at the backside of the house. Miss French, you’re coming with us.” 

Hopper cleared his throat. “Do you think this wise, Sir? This is no place for a woman.” 

“Well, if she’s the reason he locked himself away, she might damn well help to draw him out again.” 

“Of course it’s the woman that gets the blame”, Belle muttered, but she didn’t object. Although she had promised herself never to set a foot in that house again, it seemed to be a promise she wasn’t expected to keep.

They approached the house from the backstreet, from where it looked much darker, looming over the narrow alleyway like the shadow of a crooked leviathan. Mr. Jones produced a key out of his vest and opened the door. It swung inwards with a creaking noise, making Belle jump. 

“This part of the house is closed off from the rest of it, there’s no way to enter it from the front, except for one door. But only Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde have a key for that door”, Hopper explained to her. Belle thought about the tale of Bluebeard and the room he forbade his wife to enter. She knew perfectly that she didn’t want to enter the back of Jekyll’s house, but either Mr. Jones and Hopper never heard of Bluebeard, or they didn’t take it seriously. She followed the men inside, but not without glancing nervously back over her shoulder. 

It was dark inside, and dust danced in the few streaks of light that fell through the mottled windows. The air was thick with the smell of mold and something sharp that Belle couldn’t quite determine. She flinched when the giant footmen that walked behind her stepped on a creaking floorboard. They ascended a narrow staircase and stepped into some kind of laboratory. The room was lined with shelves, and the light gleamed in an endless array of glass bottles that held liquids of all kind of colors, herbs and indefinable substances. For a moment Belle was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of glass and the smell that was in the air and burnt inside her nose and her throat. On a workbench in the middle of the room, glass had shattered and some kind of liquid dripped from its surface down to the floor. It had to be this liquid that filled the air with its stench. 

The men before her crossed the room and exited through a door on the back, and when Belle followed them she saw them hunched over a figure on the floor. It was Jekyll, grotesquely twisted, white as death and covered in sweat. He groaned when Jones touched his forehead. Belle watched the men and tried to ignore the horror the sight of him caused her. It was not her place to feel anything other than ordinary sympathy for someone in need. Certainly not her place to feel shaken and worried sick. Or afraid he might die. The footman took Jekyll in his arms as if he didn’t weigh more than a child, and carried him into the next room, where he laid him down onto a dusted settee. Belle got to her knees at his side and felt his pulse at his throat, not thinking about the way this may appear to the other men in the room. His heart was beating as fast as the heart of a rabbit, and it frightened her even more. His skin was cold with sweat. 

He opened his eyes when she drew back her fingertips, and the white of his eyeballs was yellow, as yellow as Hyde’s abominable teeth. Or the rest of him, for that matter. 

“What happened?”, she asked, and Jekyll tried to answer her. His voice quivered and was barely audible over his rasping breath. 

“My medicine. Failed me.” 

“What do you need?” She didn’t care that her voice sounded desperate, or that there were three men surrounding her and watching her. All she cared about at this moment was Jekyll. He pointed to a leather case behind her, and Belle recognized the case he had carried when he came to see Ruby. She hurried over and brought it back to him, and when he indicated a small green phial she gave it to him and watched him as he set the phial to his lips and downed its contents in one gulp.

He seemed to recover somewhat then, and with his eyes on the small bottle he said “That was the last of it.” 

“And can’t you make some more?”, Belle asked, looking down on her hands that had somehow ended up on his upper arm. His muscles flexed beneath her palms, and the memory of Hyde’s hard flesh flashed through her and washed in a wave of heat over her. She had to swallow hard to chase away the images her mind created. Jekyll watched her, and when she met his eyes she noticed that the yellow in them already faded. 

“I tried. But there had to be something wrong with one of the ingredients I used on the first batch. I reproduce it at the same ratio as before, with the same ingredients, but it keeps failing.”

Jones stepped to the settee, and Belle let go of Jekyll’s arm and retreated into the shadows. She didn’t want Jones to get any more suspicious about her virtue than he already was. Not that it was any of his business.

“Where’s Hyde?”, he asked, and Jekyll’s gaze shifted to his lawyer.

“I haven’t seen him since Sunday. This is not his doing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So no one has seen that crook since Sunday?” 

Jekyll shook his head. Jones didn’t seem to be satisfied, but he didn’t ask further. Instead he instructed Hopper to prepare Jekyll’s bedroom and turned to stalk out of the room. Belle was about to follow him, when Jekyll held her back. 

“Miss French.” 

She turned but didn’t step back to his side. She waited for him to speak. Jekyll sat up, taking his time to gesture his Footman and Hopper out of the room. Belle shifted on her feet, not sure if she was comfortable to be alone with him. 

“I want to apologize”, he said when everyone else was gone.

“Again? I told you before, there’s no need for you to apologize for your friend’s behavior.” 

He furrowed his brow, looking lost for a moment, and it dawned on Belle that he might not know that she had encountered Hyde again in his house after he had left her there. 

“You met Hyde?”, he asked, and Belle could tell that the thought of it made him nervous. Rightfully so, she added silently. He sounded positively mortified when he asked his next question, as if his throat was to tight to choke out the words. “Did he…hurt you?” 

“No”, she said, but she didn’t elaborate. He bit his lip, bringing the kiss she had given him back to Belle’s mind. She looked away. After a moment of consideration, he nodded.

“I’m glad. But I wanted to apologize for my own actions.” He raised his hand to keep her from interrupting him. 

“You did something incredibly brave. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you. It was not your fault, but my own troubled soul. I was seized by…something terrible. I had to leave you, or I might have done something unforgivable to you. Please forgive me.” 

Belle didn’t understand a word. “But what could’ve been so terrible as to bring you to harm me?” 

“It’s nothing I can explain.” 

Belle waited, but he didn’t continue. He just sat there, his face etched with regret, and watched her. At last she took a deep breath and lifted her chin to face him unwavering. “I forgive you. But I can’t trust you again. Not just yet.” 

A smile fluttered across his face and tugged at Belle’s insides, and the ugly thing inside her came to a rest, the fever burning her nerves subsided, and for one brief moment she felt safe.

  


  



	7. Seven

She didn’t feel safe for long. They didn’t leave Jekyll’s house until after Mr. Jones had called on Dr. Whale and he had taken a look at Jekyll. When Whale arrived, he was surprised to find Belle there, too, but he didn’t waste any time to flash his lecherous smile at her. His gaze crept over her as if she was meat on a market stall, and Belle bit the insides of her cheeks to hold back her rage. 

“Ah, Belle, how nice to meet you again. Very obliging of Jones to bring you along. A man needs something for the eye, isn’t it, especially on days like this.” He ignored her face, again. 

He didn’t see the look on Jekyll’s face either, who watched his colleague with ire in his eyes. Belle saw it, however, but it only fueled her indignation. He was not enraged because Whale behaved infamous and treated a woman in a disgusting way, but because Whale treated  her this way. As if she was a possession, some prized piece of art that Whale stained with filthy fingers. 

“Dr. Whale”, Jekyll said, and his voice could have cut through ice, “There’s no need for you to come by. I’m perfectly fine.” He rested with his back against the headpiece of his bed, propped up against a heap of pillows that Belle had piled up there when the footman had carried Jekyll to his bedroom. 

“Jones sent for me, and I have to say, you don’t look fine to me.” After Whale had actually managed to draw his eyes away from Belle, he examined Jekyll, who glared at Whale through the whole process. Belle thought that he looked as if he was trying to decide if he should only hit Whale over the head or actually decapitate him altogether. Her insides formed one tight knot just beneath her breastbone, and she was glad no one wanted her to talk. When had he started to consider her as something only he was allowed to lay eyes on? 

“So”, Whale said, and Belle was ripped from her thoughts, “What did cause this fit?” 

“I’m running out of a special medicine I take. It keeps the fits at bay. I can go on for some time without it, but the next attack may cause irreversible damage. I just need some days to make a new batch of my drug.” 

Whale shrugged. Belle wondered how he could be so indifferent. He called himself a friend of Jekyll. When he closed his bag and threw another smile at her, even winked, a sigh escaped her. This was Whale. There seemed to be only one thing that interested him, and it was attached to the female body. She reminded herself never to go see Dr. Whale in case she needed a Doctor. No more than Dr. Jekyll, who looked short of jumping out of bed and impaling Whale on his cane. 

When Whale left, Belle was once more alone with Jekyll. She had to lick her lips, but her tongue was as dry and sticky as her lips. 

“What is it that ails you?” she asked finally, and her voice almost cracked. Jekyll sighed, and he started to smooth out the sheets that covered him. He looked down, but Belle wasn’t sure if he even saw the sheets.

“There’s not really much to tell. I’m in a position very similar to that of Miss Lucas. Different though, as she seems to be haunted only every few weeks, while I myself am in constant turmoil. But you don’t need to trouble yourself with this.” 

Mr. Jones chose this moment to enter the room, and for once Belle was glad to see him, because otherwise she might have blurted out with something like “But I want to”, though she didn’t even know if it was true. She left with her employer, going back to the office, and she was tense and unsettled. It was not even midday, but her limbs were as heavy as if she’d been awake for a week. 

When Belle seated herself behind her desk with the purpose of at least pretending to work, Mr. Jones did not, as was his habit, go straight through to his office without paying her any attention, but planted himself in front of her desk and stared at her. 

“Miss French”, he said, his voice grave. Belle looked up and took in his stern face. Though his constant swearing had thrown her off at first, she had learned that he usually was a man of sanguine temper, as long as she made no mistakes while working. Only lately he had become more erratic, and it had to do with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Now, as far as Belle could tell by his puckered brows, his crossed arms and his rigid poise, she was to receive a scolding. 

“I don’t tolerate it if my employees behave morally reprehensible. You’re not going to see Dr. Jekyll again.” 

Belle placed her palms on her desk, congratulating herself silently on her composure, before she addressed Jones, calmly and without blinking. 

“Are you implying I did something wrong?” 

“At least it’s not acceptable for an unmarried woman to see gentlemen on her own.” 

“So I need your permission to search for a husband.” 

Jones stepped back. This had taken him by surprise. “No, of course not. That would be your father’s…” 

“Well, it’s my life, so I decide. Not my father, and certainly not you. Nor any other man, for that matter.“ 

“This is highly inappropriate, Miss French.” Jones seemed exasperated, and Belle, who knew this kind of defensive behavior from her father, raised her brow.

“I didn’t start this conversation. That was you.” 

Jones stared at her for one silent moment before he grunted and turned on his heels to disappear into his office. He hadn’t even latched on to the insinuation she was considering Jekyll as a possible husband – which she was not, but that was none of his business either. Belle looked at the door he closed behind him with a definite bang. Why was it that every single man in her life seemed to think he could take over the responsibility for her? Even Jekyll seemed to see her more as something he had rightful claims on than as person of her own will. All his apologizing and consideration couldn’t change that. An image of Hyde flashed through her, and she heard him hissing into her ear. “You can go if you want to, dearie.” She shivered, almost feeling his breath waft over her neck.

Belle noticed that she still sat there with her palms pressed onto the table, slightly hunched over, and she noticed the sensation that tingled beneath her ribs. Her breath had quickened, and when she finally lifted her palms, there were two damp stains on the shiny surface where her hands had been. She watched them disappear, like something ghostly that had never been there. 

The Constable came by when she was packing up to go home. He was asking for Mr. Jones. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, Sir, but there has been an assault on one Dr. Whale, and I’ve been told you know the address of the suspected attacker.” The Constable turned his hat in his hands and shifted on his feet. Belle sat there, behind her desk, watched him and was sure she didn’t want to know what had happened to Whale. She had a sense of foreboding that told her this couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. 

“How is Whale?”, Mr. Jones asked, and Belle wanted to shout at him that this was not the right question. 

“Barely alive. Not sure if he’s gonna make it. He’s pretty much pulp. He was lucky someone saw the attack and interfered. His attacker took off when the men came upon him.” The Constable flicked a brief glance to Belle. “I’m sorry Miss, that’s no pretty business.”

“So how do you know who attacked him?”, Jones asked, and Belle wanted to shake the answer out of that Constable, who spoke excruciatingly slow, the words dripping from his lips like tar.

“One of the men that chased him off named him as one Mr. Hyde.” 

Belle hadn’t noticed she’d held her breath until that moment. She sucked in one painful gulp of air. Hyde. Not Jekyll. Then it dawned on her that Jekyll could have just as well set his friend on Whale. He had looked murderous that morning. 

Mr. Jones had to say her name twice before she heard him. “Miss French, please fetch Hyde’s address for the Constable. It has to be with Jekyll’s files.“ 

She did as he told her, but her fingers were trembling in a way that made it difficult for her to skim through all the sheets of paper in the file. When she finally found the address, she stared at it, memorizing every syllable of it. Then she handed it over.

She didn’t go home directly. Slowly, in perfectly measured steps, she went to Cavendish Square and Dr. Jekyll’s house. She had to know if he had something to do with the assault on Whale, even if it was killing her. But when Hopper opened the door, he told her that Jekyll was out and he didn’t know where he had gone.

Belle’s heart was beating so fast then that she didn’t know if it was still beating at all. She wanted to go home, to lie down, read a book and forget that day ever happened at all. But her feet were not taking her home. If she couldn’t ask Jekyll, she had to ask Hyde. And then Belle forgot that she ever had felt safe. 

  



	8. Eight

It was growing dark, and Belle knew that she shouldn’t be in this vicinity at night. Or any other time of the day. She had to ask for direction twice, and when she finally reached the street where Hyde lived, it was fully dark. She knew at once which was the house she was looking for, because a Constable was standing in front of it, carrying a lantern and a nightstick. Belle drew two conclusions from this: The police hadn’t found Hyde yet, and he was not there. Perhaps that was just one conclusion. The tension left her. She didn’t have to confront Hyde after all. 

The next moment something slipped around her throat from behind and yanked her into the darkness of a narrow alleyway. Her back was pressed against her assailant, and his other arm enclosed her like a steel band. His breath swept hot and humid over her cheek, scorching her skin. Belle struggled against the iron grip, tried to kick at the man, while a tiny voice at the back of her head whispered that this had to be her end. Her nose filled with the stench of sweat and blood. It was a pity to die in this reek. 

“Keep still, dearie. We don’t want that Constable to find us.” 

Hyde. 

Belle fell still, though almost involuntarily. Only because it was Hyde it didn’t mean her situation was any less dangerous. More like the opposite. He dragged her deeper into the alley, but his grip around her throat loosened. 

“So you came back for me. Can’t say I’m surprised.” He let her go and stepped back, and Belle needed a moment to compose herself, calm down her ragged breathing and the violent trembling in her limbs. She turned around to face him, but he was only a shadow in the dark, his eyes gleaming like orbs of a wolf in the night. 

“I didn’t come back for…that”, she said, but her voice was not as steady as she wished it to be. 

“Then you’re a fool. But if it wasn’t for me, then why did you come back?” His voice sounded deeper as usual, but it made Belle nauseous nonetheless. 

“I need to ask you a question.” 

He giggled, and there it was, the high pitched sound that pierced through her bones. “Did your mommy not tell you this, dearie? It only hurts the first time. After that it can be pure pleasure. You’ll never wanna stop again.” 

Belle stepped back, and her foot slipped in something soft and mushy. She didn’t want to know what it was. Thankfully it was too dark to see, anyway. 

“That’s not what I want to ask. Did Jekyll tell you to attack Whale?” 

Hyde snorted, and it was a sound almost as unpleasant as the thing beneath her feet. “Now why would he do that?” 

Belle swallowed. She didn’t know the answer. All she had was her intuition. She heard Hyde move in the dark, and she backed away further, until her back collided with the brick wall behind her. 

“So he didn’t tell you to hurt Whale?” 

“No, I did that for my own amusement. Jekyll’s too afraid to ever take what he wants. Or what’s offered to him. “ His shadow moved closer, and Belle knew she had to go now, or she wouldn’t make it at all. 

“I’m going to go home now.” 

“And what makes you think I’m going to let you go?” 

Belle swallowed, but her throat was all knotted up. He stepped so close she could make out his features in the dark, see the gleam of his eyes and the glint of his bared teeth. His face was contorted with something that ripped the strength from her legs and turned her insides to mush. His hand came out of the darkness and he touched her lip with his thumb, leaving the iron taste of blood there. 

“There’s a price to that, dearie. Let’s make a deal.” He leaned even closer, and Belle had to keep herself from burying her teeth in his cheek and tear away his flesh. She pressed her tongue to her teeth and clenched her fists into the folds of her dress. 

“I’ll let you go for…a kiss.” 

A giggle bubbled up in her throat. She had to be hysterical. Utterly mad. 

“That doesn’t sound like you”, she said, and his chuckle tickled over her skin. 

“Do you want to pay more?” he asked. Belle planted her hand on his chest, ignoring the heat of his skin that radiated through his shirt, and pushed him back. She imagined he could have just stayed there, unmoving like the brick wall at her back, but he stepped back. 

“I’m not going to kiss you.” 

“Still pining for Jekyll, are you?” he didn’t sound offended. Or mad. Just mildly interested. “He’s gone, you know. He’s not coming back.” 

“I don’t believe you.” Belle turned and walked away. He didn’t keep her from going, though he easily could have done so. 

“I’m not going to let you go a third time, dearie. And I will have that kiss.”

Belle had already laid some distance between them, and she felt safe to turn and face him. “You know, I was wrong”, she said. “There is good in you.”” 

“Oh no, dearie, there isn’t. I’m a monster. Better keep that in mind.” 

Belle flicked her tongue over her lips and tasted the stench of blood there. Blood that had been on his hands. She turned and hastened away, and his eerie giggle followed her. 

It seemed as if he had been right about one thing. Dr. Jekyll had vanished. His butler came to Mr. Jones office two weeks later to tell them that Jekyll never had come back. They went to his house and searched the back of it, though there was no point to it. 

“I fear Hyde has killed him as well. It was never a good idea of Jekyll to make this abomination his heir. It had to come to this.” Jones crossed his office back and forth, talking more to himself as to Belle. Belle watched him, her insides one giant block of ice. She didn’t want to believe Jekyll was gone. She didn’t want to believe Hyde had killed him either. When she got home that day, she cried for the first time in weeks, and Ruby, who herself was restless and uneasy, held her in her arms until there were no tears left to cry. 

“I know I’m stupid, because there was only one kiss, not more, and he didn’t even kiss me back, but now I feel like I’ll never know what could have been…” 

Ruby listened to her incoherent speech and patted her hair. “You never know what could have been, Belle. That’s how life is. You have to take what you get from it.” 

“Yes, but…sometimes you only know that you wanted something very badly when it’s gone and forever out of your reach.” It was the first time Belle admitted that she had felt something for Jekyll. And she was sorry that the last time she saw him, she had been angered because he had been mad at another man. Over her. Ruby smiled, but it was a bitter smile, and Belle noticed how sad Ruby looked. 

“That’s one of life’s lessons. When there is something you want, you have to seize it, because it could be gone the very next moment.” 

“You sound almost like Hyde.” 

Ruby knitted her brows together and bit her lips. “That creep? Only difference is, he doesn’t hesitate to murder and rape to get what he wants. I didn’t say you should be like that.”

“Um, actually…” The words caught in her throat, and Belle stopped. She knew nothing about Hyde other than what she had been told. The only thing she knew for a fact was that he had beaten Whale to pulp. But he did let her go twice. Though that didn’t mean he didn’t rape other women. But somehow she didn’t believe that. He had asked her for a kiss. No man who took what he wanted without regarding anyone but himself  asked for a kiss. Of course he hadn’t asked the first time, but Belle still didn’t think about that kiss. Every time her thoughts came near that night, the ugly thing inside her reared its head and sent an itching flaring through her veins, as if stinging nettles were growing inside of her.

“Belle, what are you thinking?” Ruby sounded worried, and Belle tried to cover up her disturbing thoughts with a smile. 

“Nothing”, she said, and Ruby snorted.

“Would be the first time.” Her friend hopped from the bed and groaned. “My bones are killing me.”

“Do you think you’ll have another fit?” Now Belle was worried. Ruby had been fine for a few weeks, but she had started to complain over her bones and her sore muscles, and that was always a sign that another fit was approaching. 

Ruby shrugged. “I don’t know. I still have Jekyll’s medicine. We’ll see if it helps.” 

“Let’s hope so.” 

But Belle wasn’t assured. His own medicine had failed Jekyll, too. After all the tears she had cried, Belle had thought all her pain and tension was washed out of her, but now she noticed there was still a tight knot beneath her ribcage, a feeling of disquiet that almost made her retch. She looked out of the window and up to the moon that was so bright that for once, it cut through London’s cover of thick, black smoke. 

  



	9. Nine

Belle awoke with a start, and for a moment she didn’t know where she was. Then she heard it again: A shrieking and howling that sent violent chills down her spine and lifted every single hair on her body. She stumbled out of bed and didn’t even bother to put on a dressing gown over her nightshirt. Her toe collided with something in the dark, but her curses were drowned by the sound that had yanked her from sleep. She staggered down the narrow staircase, directing her steps to Ruby’s room, where she knew the noise to come from. She met Mrs. Lucas on the landing in front of her granddaughter’s room, carrying a flickering candle. Her nightcap sat lopsided on her head and the look on her face scared Belle more than the howling sounds that came out of Ruby’s room. 

“Didn’t she take the drug Jekyll gave her?” Belle asked, trying to be heard over the clangor.

“She did, but I think I’ll give her another dose, just to be safe.” Mrs. Lucas thrust the candle into Belle’s hand and produced the small phial out of her knitted vest. “You’re going to help me hold her down”, she said, and Belle nodded. She had never seen Ruby in one of her fits before, since Mrs. Lucas had always locked Ruby in when they happened, to prevent her from tearing down the house, she said. Now, when her landlady opened the door to the chamber, Belle was afraid of what she was going to see in there. The flickering light of the candle only illuminated a small fraction of the room, since the shutters were closed tight and didn’t let in any light from the bright moon. 

Ruby lay on her cot, a pale figure twisting and jerking in a way that was painful to see. Mrs. Lucas rushed to her side and grabbed Ruby by the arms, pressing her down to the mattress.

“Put down that candle and help me”, she said, and Belle hastened to the other side of the cot and put down the candle on the bedside table. She tried to hold Ruby down, while Mrs. Lucas opened the small phial, but Ruby was too strong. Her strength seemed to be heightened by her pain, and Belle couldn’t keep her from trashing around in her bed. 

“Hold her down!” Mrs. Lucas shouted, but Belle stood no chance. Her friend threw her off and kicked Mrs. Lucas, who lost balance and fell. Belle heard an ugly crack when her landlady knocked her head on the windowsill and fell unconscious to the ground. Ruby leapt from the bed, smashing Belle against the wall. 

“Ruby!” Belle called her friend, desperate for her to hear her voice, to calm down, but Ruby didn’t respond. She stood in the middle of her small room, panting, staring at Belle as if she didn’t recognize her. Belle made one tiny step towards her friend, extended her hand to touch her arm, but Ruby jerked, and her body began to shake violently. Belle watched in horror as her friend’s body began to change, to transform, her limbs stretching, growing, a ripple going over her that left thick fur where before had been white skin. Belle didn’t want to believe her eyes, didn’t want to believe what she saw. Where Ruby had been moments before was now crouching a giant wolf. 

“Ruby?” Belle’s voice was only a whisper, but the wolf’s head jerked up, and it bared enormous fangs in a snarl that paralyzed Belle on the spot. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe, and her only thought was to wake up, just to wake up from this nightmare. But she didn’t wake up, not even when the wolf lunged at her and knocked her to the ground, setting one of its paws on her chest. Hot breath swept over her face as the wolf bent down its head. All Belle could see were those teeth, only inches away from her face, the saliva from the wolf’s muzzle dripping onto her skin, hot and reeking, and the growl that came from deep inside the wolf filling her with the certitude that she was going to die now. 

“Ruby, please” she whispered, her voice cracking in her throat. “Ruby, it’s me. Remember who you are…” 

She looked into the wolf’s eyes, though she distantly remembered to have read to avoid the eyes of an attacking animal. She didn’t care. She was going to die anyway. The growling grew louder, but Belle saw something deep in the wolf’s eyes, a flicker of something she knew belonged to Ruby. 

“Please. Remember.” Belle could hardly breathe, the wolf’s weight resting on her chest, its claws digging deep into her skin, and her terror made her voice tremble. But that faint glimmer of Ruby in the wolf’s eyes gave her hope, the trust that her friend would not kill her. The wolf snatched at her face, but its fangs snapped shut just short of her skin. They grazed her skin before the wolf leapt off of her and crashed through the door, leaving her lying on the ground, not sure if she was really still alive. She drew in a shuddering breath before she regained control over her limbs and managed to crawl to where Mrs. Lucas was lying, still unconscious. Belle fumbled through the grey hair of her landlady, searching for a dent where she might have cracked her skull, but she didn’t find anything, and her relief escaped her lips in a shaky laugh. She pulled Mrs. Lucas’ head into her lap and knelt there, shaking and numb to her bones, until the older woman began to stir and regain consciousness. 

Mrs. Lucas groaned and felt her head. “What happened?”, she asked, and Belle told her. 

“Your damn lucky to be alive, you foolish girl. Those drugs must have had some effect after all.” Mrs. Lucas swayed slightly on her feet when she got up, and Belle grabbed her by the arm. Mrs. Lucas didn’t shake her off, and that told Belle more than words could tell that her landlady really was quite upset. 

“Let’s hope she doesn’t kill anyone else.” 

But they never knew if Ruby did kill someone. The sun came up and Ruby returned, shaken by the events of the night. Belle learned that it hadn’t been the first time Ruby turned into a wolf, but the first time she remembered it. But if she remembered killing someone, she didn’t tell. Belle was not sure she hadn’t dreamt that night after all. The events of that night, however real they were, caused one burning question to form inside Belle’s mind. Jekyll had said his condition had been similar to Ruby’s. But if her friend turned into a wolf every few weeks, what could it possibly be that Jekyll had turned into? 

Her skin was still scraped a few days later. She was filing away some papers when she heard someone enter the office and Mr. Jones started to shout at the intruder. She tiptoed to the door of the reception room, glancing into it. She saw Jones, an angry scowl on his face, clutching a stack of papers to his chest. He faced a man she instantly knew, although he had his back to her. But there was no mistaking Hyde and his scaly yellow skin, his prancing stance or his high-pitched voice. There was no mistaking the sharp blade of the rapier in his hand either.

“Give me those papers”, Hyde snarled, his blade pointed at Jones’ heart. “Jekyll left his estate to me, there is nothing you can do about it.” 

Jones backed away, but his face remained stubborn. “I’m taking this to court. There’s no way a murderer is going to inherit the fortune of the man he murdered.”

“Oh, isn’t there? We’ll see.” Hyde’s voice dripped with loathing and glee. It made Belle sick. The next moment she gasped as the rapier cut through the air in a silver flash, and Jones’ hand landed with a dull thump on the floor, amidst a flutter of paper that quickly turned from white to angry red.

“Hyde!” Belle hadn’t known she stepped into the room until she called out his name, and when he spun around, his face distorted with bloodlust, she realized she faced a true monster. 

  



	10. Ten

His scaly skin almost glittered, but his eyes were as black as jet stones, unrelenting and bare from compassion. But when his eyes fell on her, something flared in their depth. Jones used the moment Hyde’s back was turned to him to slip out of the office, clutching the stump of his arm to his chest and abandoning Belle to her fate. She had only seconds to realize this before Hyde leapt at her, dropping the rapier and wrenching her from her feet. She crashed down on her desk, with him on top of her, and the rush of shock and movement drained her of all air. She was no more than a limp puppet, held down by his iron grip in her hair at the back of her head, and his other hand on her throat. The bloodlust in his eyes had turned into something much hungrier, but it scared Belle not half as much as the searing heat in her veins that welcomed him. A ravenous craving deep down in her insides answered his assault, and the thing in her that she never wanted to acknowledge coiled and wriggled like maggots on a rotten carcass. She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent that made her skin prickle, and her blood throbbed against his grip.  
His hand on her throat slid down, trailing the front of her dress, ripping open the tiny buttons on her bodice on its way to the hem of her skirts, and she felt his nails graze her skin as he started to pull them up.  
“Hyde! Don’t…” She could tell that he didn’t even hear her as he bent down his head and grazed the line of her jaw with his teeth. She didn’t want him to stop, not if she allowed herself to be honest for once, but she didn’t want to be deflowered in a room that reeked of blood either. She wanted to push Hyde away, but her hands clawed into his shirt and pulled him even closer. She panted just as much as he did, and she didn’t know what happened to her. She only knew that he had planted something inside her that needed release, needed it since she first met him, and he exerted a spell on her that skipped once again her brain and went straight into her core. She felt his hand beneath her skirts nestle at the closure of her drawers, felt his lips on her exposed throat, his tongue licking over her skin. It reduced her to burning need, and she didn’t want that. His fingers slid into her drawers and he caressed that point of her that needed his touch like she needed air to breathe, and at first Belle didn’t know that the soft whimpering noises that filled the air were her own. Her hips jerked helplessly upwards, against his fingers, and Belle knew she had to stop. She didn’t want this to end in the same room where a severed hand lay on the floor, a hand severed by the man who stood between her parted legs and dipped his fingertips into her folds and drew out the wetness there.   
“Hyde! Look at me!” She said it urgently, hoping to reach that part of him that still was man and not animal. She knew it had to be there, somewhere deep in his black eyes. Their eyes locked, and Belle didn’t dare to look away. She saw only lust in his face, the need to possess, and it darkened her own mind like a fever. “Please look at me”, she repeated, and she saw how something changed in his eyes, slowly, as if he awakened out of a dream. He drew back his hand and stared at the glistening wetness that covered his fingers. For one instant he closed his eyes and inhaled her scent on them, and it seemed to awaken him fully. He recoiled, leaving her exposed to his horrified stare.   
“Belle”, he croaked, and it sent a thrill through her insides. It was the first time he spoke her name. She raised herself up and tried to catch his gaze, but it had already clouded with remorse and regret, and he backed away.   
“Hyde, look at me.” She said it softly. She didn’t condemn him, nor did she feel violated. She had just as much reacted to him as he had to her, and had it been another time, she might have surrendered to her lust and to him.   
He didn’t look at her. Instead he turned around and fled from the room, without listening to her calls. Belle hopped from the desk and almost tumbled to the floor as she tripped over her sagging drawers. She yanked them down completely and kicked them off before she followed him out of the back of the building onto the deserted alley. She buttoned up her dress while running, and she didn’t even notice that she got the buttons all wrong. She saw him limping ahead of her, his usual grace slipping away, shaking and twisting violently. At last he collapsed to the ground, and Belle fell down to her knees on his side, her skirts pooling like a cloud around her.   
“You should run away, dearie”, he rasped, and the sadness of it almost broke her heart. She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at her. The lines etched deep into his face spoke of his struggle, his sense fighting his needs. He clenched his jaws, and his nostrils widened as he looked at her. It was as if she was staring into the wolf’s face all over again.  
“Jekyll’s still in there, isn’t he?” she asked. She didn’t know when she’d realized it, but now that she had, she saw it in the shape of his eyes, the edge of his nose and in the line of his jaw.   
“Don’t you know, dearie? I killed that fool.” A smile flitted across his face.  
“No. No, you didn’t. As much as you want it to be true, I know it isn’t.” She looked deep into his eyes, and she saw in them a flicker of the other man, the man whose compassion had obligated him to make up for the misdeeds he committed as Hyde.   
“And what makes you so awfully sure of that?” he asked.   
“I saw it in you. You did let me go. You even stopped in there when I asked you to. No true monster would do that.”   
“Then you’re more of a fool than I thought.” His face hardened, and she knew he didn’t believe in her words, no more than in himself. Before she could change her mind, she leaned towards him and pressed her lips onto his. He didn’t move, and Belle kept still until she felt him shudder and his lips softened and parted beneath hers. When she drew back, he looked stunned, disbelieving, and for one moment she thought she had reached him, touched to his soul. But he blinked, and shoved her away.   
“What do you think you’re doing? Is this you killing the monster?” His face contorted in a snarl, and her instincts told her to run. A thrill surged through her and made it hard to breathe, but Belle stayed. She had to face the monsters, his as well as her own.   
“You wanted a kiss, remember?” she said.  
“And do you think a kiss will draw him out again? Are you so desperate to have that wimp Jekyll back, a man who’s too afraid to kiss you because he’s afraid of becoming me?”” His words bit like acid, but Belle didn’t let them hurt her.   
“No. I know Jekyll’s in there. But you’re too afraid of him to let him out. You didn’t free yourself from morality, you freed yourself from him. And you weren’t even particularly successful, because he’s still in there and prevents you from hurting me.”   
He giggled, too loud and too high, and it stabbed Belle in the gut. “This is no fairytale, dearie. There are no happy endings for the likes of me. If you want him, you’ll have to get rid of me first.”   
She took his hand into hers and locked eyes with him. “I want both of you.”   
Belle knew it to be true the moment she said it aloud. She’d known it since Hyde had kissed her at Jekyll’s house, but only now she allowed herself to be honest again. She touched his hand to her heart. “I want Jekyll.” Then she lifted the hem of her skirts and guided his hand between her legs, making him touch her naked sex. “And I want Hyde.”   
She let go of his hand, but he didn’t draw it back. “How could you want a monster like me? Why should you want to?” His voice was low, and he sounded almost like Jekyll.   
Belle bit her lip. “You’re not a monster.” She thought of the severed hand back in the office. “Well, at least not all of the time”, she added then. “But we can work that out.”  
She felt his fingers move between her legs, felt them circle her most sensitive point, and she moaned and grabbed his shoulders. She was still wet, and his touch rekindled her longing for him anew. He smiled his most hydeous smile, and pulled her closer with his other hand, hooking his fingers into the gaping spaces between the buttons of her dress.  
“Be careful what you wish for”, he said. His lips almost touched the skin on the crook of her neck, and his breath swept hot and humid over her. He inhaled deeply, and she wanted him desperately to kiss her, to trace her skin with his lips and his tongue and his teeth, but he didn’t. She tilted her head back, exposed her throat to his lips, and laced her fingers into his hair to pull him closer. She felt his chuckle tingle over her skin.   
“Explain to me, dearie, you weren’t willing to do it back in there, but you’re willing to do it here on the street? You’re not who I thought you to be.” His words would have brought her to her senses, weren’t his fingers tickling her sex, dipping into her and grazing that point of hers that craved his touch. She groaned and buried her face in his hair. Finally his lips connected to her skin, and his tongue sent shivering sensations all over her body. He bit the crook of her neck, licked over the mark he left on her, and the pain of it, mixed with the pleasure that he elicited between her legs, shattered her world into pieces. She clung to him, unable to support herself any longer, and he wrapped his arms around her and held her, so tight as if he planned on never letting her go.   
“Well, that was fast.” Belle felt his lips move on her skin as he spoke, and it sent another shiver over her. “Now, better get you off the street, dearie. Your monster needs lots of working on.”


	11. Eleven

She could barely walk. Her knees were still like the pudding Mrs. Lucas prepared on Fridays, the one that melted on the tongue and had almost no consistency at all, but she let Hyde drag her along nonetheless. She tried to cover up her front with her hands, avoiding curious glances from passers-by and trying to be unconcerned about what they might see: A woman in a half dressed state and an ugly yellow man who oozed with glee. Quite a pair they made.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, when the streets became more and more unfamiliar.

“To my quarters, of course. My other quarters, since the Police’s still looking for me.”

Belle dug her heels in the ground and forced him to stop.

“Just like that? You’re not even asking if I want to come with you?”

He cocked his head, and she could see as clear as if it was written over his face that he contemplated to just toss her over his shoulder.

“Well, I assumed, since we already started…” He trailed off, his eyes lingering on the buttons of her dress. He had difficulties to concentrate, and the knowledge of it rushed through her veins and prickled on her skin. It would be a truly arduous task to manage his greed if he turned her in a being just as voracious as himself. She swallowed and licked her lips, slowly. She noticed how his eyes fixed on her lips, and how they widened when she bit her lower lip. He took a step towards her, but came to a halt when she raised her hand and put it firmly on his chest.

“Do you want to kiss me?” she asked, and her voice was hoarse with desire.

“I want to do all kinds of things to you, dearie. First of all teach you how to kiss properly. You seem to have not the tiniest inkling how it’s done.”

His words went straight into her belly, and she had to restrain herself from moaning at the feeling. “Then you have to ask me properly. I’m not just a random floozy.”

Hyde narrowed his eyes, and he clenched his jaws so hard that she could almost hear him grit his teeth. It cost him every ounce of control he had, but he managed to keep himself from lunging at her. Not that she had blamed him if he’d lost control.

“Well, dearie, how would you like it to come with me to my humble domicile and finish what you started?”

“I’d like that very much.” She giggled at his exasperated look. Then he darted at her, pushed her against the brick wall of a house and pressed his lips on hers, open mouthed and wet and hungry, and Belle could tell from this kiss that she really hadn’t known how to do it properly.

His „other“ quarters were not as small and simple as she had suspected. They were, in fact, a small house, wedged between other houses that were equally contorted and seemed to be interlaced, built on each other, as if they were trying to climb each other and reach for the sky, to clip away each ray of light before the neighboring house could catch and swallow it. And he owned the whole house.

“This is beautiful!” Belle exclaimed, and Hyde snorted as if he doubted her sanity.

“I begin to wonder if there’s everything alright with your eyes, dearie.”

“My eyes are perfectly fine”, she said, ogling his backside. The view couldn’t be any better.

He dragged her inside, and Belle stumbled into his arms.

“You did that on purpose”, she said, but the words were swallowed by his shirt. He didn’t let her go at once, but instead roamed her back with his hands and buried his nose in her hair. He started nibbling the skin of her neck, making her shiver with pleasure. But the next moment, she realized she was with Hyde in a house she didn’t know. Alone. And he was about to tear off her dress.

“Wait”, she said, her throat rustling like paper.

“Hm?” His lips captured the shell of her ear while he once again worked on the buttons of her dress. Tiny clicking sounds on the floor indicated that he wasn’t careful about it. Belle caught his hands and pushed him back. He panted, looking at her as if he was starving and she was a delicious meat pie.

“Shy, dearie?”

“Of course.” And she was. Forgotten her daring behavior out in the street. Forgotten the rush and the excitement. “It would help if you weren’t quite as…beastly.”

“I won’t hurt you…much.”

“Why thank you. That’s so much better, then.” She knew he wouldn’t hurt her on purpose. But she knew also – and reveled in the knowledge – that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But right at this moment, she’d have preferred to face Jekyll rather than Hyde.

“Perhaps we could sit down for a moment”, she said, but when she looked around, the room looked awfully plain and unfurnished. “Is there something to sit on in this house?”

“The bed. Upstairs.” 

Of course the bed. “Anything else?”

“Floor?” He looked down at the dusty floorboards as if he contemplated how suited they were for sitting. Or other things. As if they were naked. Belle had never before looked at the floor and thought about anything other than…well, the floor. A scrubbing brush, at most. Now her mind created images that dyed her skin crimson. Sweet heaven.

“The bed is fine”, she said hastily, before she remembered that the bed was even more suggestive than the floor. Judging by the wriggle of his eyebrows, he thought so, too.

“Excellent choice, dearie!” He clapped his hands, giggled and vibrated with excitement. Almost like a child on its birthday, only a child didn’t have the things in mind that he obviously did. Like a child that couldn’t wait tearing off the gift-wrap of his presents, he was eager to unwrap her. Good lord.

“This way.” He extended a hand to guide her to a narrow flight of stairs and waited for her to go ahead. Belle had only taken a few steps when she halted again. He was so close behind he almost bumped into her, and she felt his breath on her neck.

“We could sit on the stairs”, she said, turning.

“You can sit for the rest of your life. On the stairs, the floor, the bed, me, wherever you like.” He growled it, his voice grating on her nerves.

“Please, just a moment.” She didn’t wait for a reply, but plumped down onto the stairs and wrapped her arms around her knees. After a moment of watching her silently, he crouched down by her feet, resembling more than ever the predator about to leap at his prey.

“You alright, dearie? Afraid?”

She shook her head. Not really. She didn’t question her choice. She wanted this. But her conscience kicked in and told her that this step was final. She couldn’t go back. She just needed a moment to digest the finality of this.

“How does it happen?” she asked to break the silence, because his stare was almost uncomfortable.

“You want me to talk you through the anatomical details?” His eyebrows hopped in surprise.

“No. I mean, yes, but what causes it?”

He looked completely lost, and Belle felt heat creeping over her face. He had to know what his trigger was, why Jekyll became Hyde, hadn’t he? But when he looked down at his front, at his bulging pants, and back to her, she realized with a start that they weren’t having the same conversation.

“Oh God, not this. What causes Jekyll to become Hyde?” She bit her lips to stifle the laughter that burbled up inside her. He looked so relieved for a moment there, she wanted to kiss him. He brought his face closer to her knees, slowly creeping up on her, and she felt his hand brushing the hem of her skirts.

“You, for one. Very difficult for him to stay focused when he smells you.” He inhaled deeply, and his hand slipped beneath her skirts. Belle kicked at him, but he caught her ankle, and she felt his iron grip through the sturdy leather of her boot.

“Careful, dearie.” He placed her foot on his lap, and she didn’t draw it back when he let go of it. It was a play, something that made her breath quicken and her lower belly tense in anticipation. He grabbed the hem of her full skirts and lifted them, but only up to her knees.

“Hold that for me, will you?” he mumbled. His voice was soft, almost humming, soothing, and Belle felt herself relax. She held up her skirts, curious what he’d do next. When his hands were freed, he stroked the inside of her knee, barely touching her with his fingertips, and Belle sucked in a deep breath. She had to swallow hard, because her mouth suddenly filled with so much saliva she felt like suffocating. Then he kissed that sensitive spot, and her skin erupted with prickling goose bumps. It was her knee he kissed, but she felt it in her loins and her belly and her breasts and her throat and on her tongue. He started to pull open the lacing of her boot, using teeth and lips and fingertips, holding her calf and occasionally touching the backside of her thighs, and the tugging and touching made her arch her back, silently begging for more, more touch, more pressure on her skin, because the tickling and tingling drove her wild. He chuckled, his breath like butterflies on the inner side of her knee. Then he started to pull down her boot, kissing every inch of flesh he exposed. There were still her stockings between his lips and her skin, but they were thin and delicate, and his humid breath let them cling to her skin, saving the feel of his mouth on her even after he moved further down her calf. At last he pulled off her boot and threw it down the stairs, holding her foot like something fragile and precious. He kissed the arch of her foot, her ankle, licked along the inside of her calf, but before he could move on any higher, she stemmed the foot against his chest and stopped him.

“The other one”, she said, and her voice was hoarse and breathless. He grinned, his eyes full of mischief, and bit into the sensitive spot on the inside of her knee, leaving his mark on her, before he moved to the other leg and repeated the process of unlacing, baring and kissing as devoted as before. Belle’s knees fell apart, and she didn’t even notice that she lifted the hem of her skirts higher and higher. When he kissed his way up her bared leg, her breathing came heavy and unsteady, and when his fingertips found her garters and he began to roll down her stockings, slowly and kissing every inch of skin he exposed, she moaned deep in her throat.

“Like it, sweetheart?” His words were muffled by the fabric of her second stocking that he pulled down with his teeth, and his voice was like a caress of her insides, making her hips twitch. The steps of the narrow stairs dug into the small of her back, but she didn’t notice the pain of it.

“Yes. Please.” She didn’t even know what she begged for. She needed something, but she had no words for it. He pulled off the last bit of her stocking and brought his lips back to her knee, to the inside of her thigh, kissing his way slowly towards her center. She remembered that her drawers were long gone, and then it hit her that her drawers would be found along with Mr. Jones severed hand in the office. For an instant she tensed, cold with the shock of this realization, but the next moment Hyde’s lips came down on her core, lapping oh so soft at her most sensitive point, and every thought was gone. She arched her back, arched against him, and she didn’t even notice how she grabbed his hair, torn between pulling him away and pulling him closer. He raised his head, locked eyes with her, and the smile on his face was so full of joy and pride she felt tears well up in her eyes.

“Want me to stop, sweetheart?” The way he said it – sweetheart, as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him, as if he was afraid his breath could blow her away like the most delicate petal whipped away by the wind – tugged at every nerve ending, at her heartstrings, at her inner core.

“No”, she whispered. “Please.”

He lowered his head again, kissing her softly, grazing the little nub between her folds with his lips and tongue until her world unraveled in flecks of light and color. Hyde left his place between her thighs and moved over her, pressing his loins against hers. He kissed her, letting her taste her own wetness on his lips and tongue, and it made her answer the grinding of his hips with thrusts of her own. She didn’t feel the steps digging into her shoulders, her spine, her pelvic bones, all she felt was him. With fingers that were trembling and clumsy, she helped him open his pants, wrenching them down, and she lifted her buttocks off the stairs to give him a better angle to enter her. When he did, slowly, his face strained and contorted in his effort to do it so, it didn’t hurt her. She was relaxed, she needed him inside her, and her body welcomed him like the earth welcomed rain after a drought. He crushed her under his lips, his thrusting hips driving her into the stairs, but she needed it, needed to feel, wanted him to give himself over completely. Shortly before he tensed, burying himself deep inside her, she came undone again. Her cry was swallowed by his lips, his mouth pressed so hard on hers it was all teeth and tongue and nothing else. He collapsed on her, panting heavily, and she wrapped her arms around him and held him.

After a while, he chuckled and raised himself up on his arms. “The bed would’ve been much more comfortable, dearie”, he said, and Belle laughed softly.

“I think we’ll have to try and find out.”

His eyebrows wriggled and she noticed how the tip of his nose grew a little pointier when he grinned, just as Jekyll’s did when he smiled. She had to stop thinking of them as two men, she realized. They were one. But Belle lost that thought when he bent down and kissed her between her brows and then on her chin and the corner of her mouth.

“You’re a brave little thing”, he whispered. She combed her fingers through his wavy hair, scraping his scalp, and caressed his cheek. Ultimately she slipped her fingers around his throat, like he had done it to her. His blood pulsed against her palm, his heartbeat fast like the flutter of wings.

“And you’re mine”, she whispered.

He bared his teeth in a hungry snarl before he once again captured her mouth and drank in her breath in a deep kiss.


	12. Twelve

It was too late to be worried about her decency, but when Hyde carried Belle into the small bedroom of his house, as plain and unfurnished as the rest of it apart from a bed and a desk, shame crept in and made her shy. She should have thought more about it, consider the consequences of her decision. But she had not listened to sense. It was intuition that made her go after Hyde, go with him, give herself up to him. She didn’t regret her decision – yet – but there were a lot of implications she just hadn’t thought of. Was she more than a diversion to him, a fix for his hunger? And she had ignored his misdeeds, been blind to the cruelty that made him beat Dr. Whale nearly to death and maim Mr. Jones. But she didn’t even care that much about Whale or Jones. She had to admit to herself that she worried far more about what she was to him, why he craved for her, than about his wrongdoings. But she would have to sort that out later, because now he was peeling her out of her dress for the first time. 

“Why do your clothes have to be this complicated? This is ridiculous.” He was fighting against the lacing at the front of her corset.

“That is to keep the predators out while at the same time looking tasty, seductive and respectable.” She tried not to fall into his arms as he jerked open the last of her laces. 

“That is utter rubbish. This armor didn’t keep me from getting inside…” – he paused as he pulled down the corset over her hips and made her step out of it – “…you.”

He was right, of course. They hadn’t even gotten their clothes off before they had done…it. Belle stood in the middle of the room, her clothes a puddle at her feet, and the last barrier between her skin and his eyes was a flimsy chemise. And he looked already hungry again. Hungry for her. 

Hyde stepped closer, and Belle turned her face to him, into the space between his shoulder and jaw that seemed to be hollowed out just for her. She pressed her lips to his skin, right above his pulse and felt his blood throb against them. He was so alive. So virile. Her eyes were blind now for his ugliness, the color of his skin, his terrible eyes and teeth, it all was no longer disgusting to her. Underneath his scaly yellow outside lay something that vibrated with life, a vigor that captivated Belle, that drew her in and made her tremble with desire. 

He grabbed her shoulders, not rough, but not very gentle either, and yanked her closer. Without the barrier of her clothes, the feel of his heat was overwhelming. It was as if he burned right through her thin chemise. 

“Take that off”, he growled, tugging at the fabric over her chest.

Belle took a step back. He still wore his shirt and his pants, though he had not closed them again after their…encounter… on the stairs.

“I want to see you”, she said, startled by her own daring. But when she was with him, she had no room left for inhibitions. A feral grin spread over his face, and he complied all too eagerly, shrugging off his shirt. When he peeled off his pants, Belle pulled the Chemise over her head. But when his eyes finally met her naked skin, she didn’t quite get the reaction she anticipated. Hyde stared at her chest, and the look in his eyes was ice cold. Positively murderous.

“Who did this to you?” he snarled, and Belle had no idea what he meant. 

“What?” she looked down at her chest, but the only thing there was were the faint scratches left by Ruby. Could he mean those? 

Hyde grabbed her arm and dragged her to the small window, and Belle stumbled and tensed. Her insides dropped at least down to her knees. 

“Was it Jones? Or Whale, that leech?” He nearly shouted now, and tiny flecks of spittle hit her face. 

“No, it wasn’t. Let me go.” She tried to stay calm, tried to keep the fear out of her voice. Hyde stared at her, his eyes blackening, his sense receding. She could see how his fury took hold of him, like skeletal fingers that dragged his mind into the darkness. 

“Hyde. Don’t give in to it. Stay with me.” She tried to soothe him, calm him down with the murmuring sound of her voice, but his eyes on her were empty. He was only rage. His fingers dug deep into her flesh, and she winced in pain. That seemed to register with him, because he let her go with a start and turned away. Belle watched, as he twisted and shook as if he was in terrible pain. He made high, hissing sounds that pierced through her and made her cringe. She wanted it to stop. 

When he fell to his knees, his face averted, she saw the change in his skin, the scaly yellow disappeared, his muscles softened, he seemed to shrink, until he was only a man, shivering and panting heavily. No longer a monster. Belle rushed at his side, got down to her knees and patted his shoulder.

“Jekyll”, she whispered. The man stared at her, uncomprehending, and she wondered if he had the least idea what had happened when he was Hyde. His gaze slipped from her face down to her collarbones and back, so fast as if he’d been stung in his eyes. 

“Why are you naked?” 

“Um…” No. He had not the tiniest inkling. 

He looked down again, at his bare chest, and when he looked back up he seemed horrified.

“Why am I naked?”

“Oh my.” Belle’s thoughts spun like a humming top. How could she tell him that he – well, Hyde – had not only mutilated a man, but also did things to her that still tickled inside her belly? And that she chose to do these things with him? Somehow she assumed he’d know all that. Now he spotted the scratches on her chest, and he seemed to drain of every last drop of blood. He was as white as snowdrops. 

“Did  he do that to you?” Of course he suspected himself of every possible abomination. Not a sin that Hyde wasn’t capable of committing. 

“God, no. If you both could just listen to me!” 

He squinted his eyes, and his determination to look into her face – and into her face alone – would have touched Belle if she hadn’t been so unnerved by his sudden change. She took his hand and planted it on her chest, above the scratches, and she didn’t let go when he tried to pull it back. 

“This was not you. It wasn’t Hyde. Ruby scratched me, that’s all.” 

She thought this would appease him, but he grabbed her shoulders and stared at her as if she’d told him Ruby had tried to butcher her and make her into pie.

“Ruby did this to you?” 

“Well, technically it wasn’t Ruby. I think.” Belle was not sure. Ruby had difficulties remembering the things she did when she was in her wolf-form. Just as he couldn’t remember what he had done as Hyde. 

“When did this happen?” He was almost shaking her.

“A few days ago. It was the full moon.” 

“Was she transformed?” Of course he knew about that. Nothing that Dr. Jekyll didn’t know, apart from the things he did himself. 

“A warning would have been nice. And how did you know she transforms into a wolf?”

He wanted to avert his eyes, but when he realized where that would take his gaze, he flinched.

“Could you…put something on? Please?” 

“Jekyll, only minutes ago you wanted me to take off every last stitch I had on me. And you already did so much more than just look.” 

He swallowed. “What has he done to you?”

“Nothing that I didn’t want him to do.” 

He let go of her shoulders. Tenderly, as if he was afraid of breaking her, he touched his fingertips to the scrapes on her skin. Belle bit her lip and watched him. She suspected he might push her away at any moment. And she had thought the complicated part had been to persuade Hyde. But she had spent much more time with him than with Jekyll. With Hyde at least she knew he wanted her. With Jekyll, she was not so sure.

“We should watch this. She could have infected you.” 

“With what?” Belle had never thought about the possibility of an infection. Ruby was, after all, not a real wolf. She couldn’t carry the raving madness or something like that, could she? But Jekyll looked worried, and he creased his forehead in a way that made Belle shiver. 

“Are you cold? You should put something on”, he said.

“With what could she have infected me, Jekyll?” She leaned closer. He had to tell her, even if she had to worm it out of him. The tips of her naked breasts brushed the skin of his arm, and the touch shocked both of them. Jekyll flinched and pushed her away, and she plumped on her bottom with a thud. When she looked up she saw him twisting and shuddering, the change rippling over him. 

And Hyde was back. 

  



	13. Thirteen

At least the rage in his eyes had vanished. But with Hyde, it was a safe bet he was either angry or ravenous for some thing or another. And from the way he looked at her, she had a strong suspicion about what he craved for. 

“Darn. I really needed to finish that conversation.” Belle raised herself up to her knees, rubbing her backside. This was really tedious.

“What happened, dearie?” His voice was soft as silk, but for once, Belle did not let it stir her insides. 

“You happened. This is most inconvenient.” She rose to her feet and grabbed her clothes. If she couldn’t talk to Jekyll, she had to ask Ruby. Ruby had to know. When she started to put her clothes back on, he stirred.

“What are you doing? We’re not finished yet.” 

Belle rolled her eyes at him. “Well, I need to find out something. And since Jekyll is unavailable, I’m going to ask Ruby. Or read a book.” She contemplated for a moment or two if she should bother with her corset, but it would take ages to lace it up again, so she just discarded it and pulled her dress back up. She wouldn’t be able to close it properly, since Hyde had ripped off a fair amount of its tiny buttons. He watched her from the corner, his eyes squinted and his fists opening and closing at his sides. 

“Didn’t I tell you it’s forever, dearie, if you come with me?”

Belle paused buttoning and looked at him. He wore his usual snarl, his lips drawn back in an expression of greed and want. 

“No you didn’t.” And would it have made any difference? She had known, once she gave in to her own cravings, once she gave herself to him, there was no going back. She had known this. She just hadn’t thought about it. 

“But that doesn’t matter. I have to go and see Ruby.” He would let her go. As much as Jekyll mistrusted himself, Belle trusted Hyde. As far as trust went, she trusted him much more than she trusted Jekyll. She wondered when this had happened.

“Will you come back?” 

Another question Belle hadn’t asked herself yet. Her head was humming and whirring with all those questions. 

“Why do you even want me here?” she asked. 

“You still need to ask?” He looked down his front, and Belle swallowed. At least one of his reasons was a rather prominent one.

“You can get  that from any woman.” 

“But there’s only one I want. Only one  he wants. And, let’s face it, dearie, there’s only one who wants me.” 

Belle took a deep breath. This was probably as close to a declaration of love as she could get with Hyde. Love and want were not the same, she knew that. And she was not sure if Hyde was even capable of love. She didn’t know if love was not just a rational construct. A word in books. A phrase in a poem. She didn’t even know if it was love that  she felt. How could she be sure? Perhaps it was just as basic a need for her as it was for him. An urge to be sated with touch and taste and smell. An urge that could only be sated with him. An urge she only felt when she was with him. And Jekyll. 

“I don’t know”, she said at last. “If I’m coming back. I mean, I want to. But there’s still…Jekyll. I need to talk to him.”

Hyde cocked his head, and she saw his muscles tighten. He was as tense as coil spring just before it was released, and it made Belle’s breath quicken. When he crossed the space between them with dancing steps, every muscle hard – every muscle –– dizziness closed in on her, embraced her, and her resolve to go began to unravel. The air around him shimmered with his heat, and Belle leaned closer, inhaling his scent so deep her lungs hummed with it. 

“Sure you want to go, dearie? You don’t look like it.” The words vibrated through her, tingling in her lower belly, and Belle knew she had to go. Now.

“Let me talk to Jekyll and I’ll stay.” 

“That’s his decision, not mine.” He bent his head down, and his breath tickled over her neck and made her knees as weak as her resolution. He took her chin, and his touch was gentle, but relentless all the same when he tilted her head up and kissed her. 

“Come back, sweetheart”, he whispered after he let go of her, and Belle swallowed and nodded. 

  


When she came home, Ruby captured her in a hug so tight that Belle feared she might suffocate in it. 

“Belle, where have you been? What happened? A Constable came by and told us you went missing from work after Hyde…” She stopped there, horrified, and her eyes were short of jumping out of her face. “What happened, Belle?” 

Belle didn’t know how to answer that. But Ruby drew her own conclusion when she looked Belle up and down, and they were close enough to the truth. 

“Oh Lord. Your clothes…your skin…did he?” She grabbed Belle’s arms, and a fierce look came to her eyes, so furious it made Belle almost afraid for Hyde. She didn’t know how she should tell the truth to her friend. The truth that seemed to be that Belle had lost her mind. 

“I’m fine, Ruby.”

“Don’t lie to me. The Constable told us about the assault. Hyde attacked Jones and cut off his hand. And they found…” Ruby blushed, her skin as red as the blankets on her bed. Belle thought miserable that it hadn’t been one of her more brilliant moments when she left her drawers in the office. She had no idea how to explain it, so she didn’t. 

“Ruby, there is something I need to ask. When you turned into the wolf, you scratched me. Could it be possible you infected me with…something?” 

Her friend stepped back, and Belle feared she might take it the wrong way. It sounded awfully like an accusation, not a question.

“Like what?” No, Ruby didn’t like that question, this much Belle could tell.

“I have no idea. I’m sorry, Ruby, it’s just…Jekyll saw the scratches on my chest, and he said…” 

Ruby didn’t let her finish.

“When did you see Jekyll?” she asked, sharp, and then she latched on to the second part of Belle’s words. “And why did he see your chest?”

“He just did. Please, Ruby. He said we should watch the scratches, in case they were infected, but he didn’t get to explain it to me.”

“Why not?” Oh my, Ruby picked all the wrong parts from Belle’s speeches. 

“He had to go. Now, tell me.”

But Ruby just shrugged. “Maybe Granny knows more. I didn’t even know I turn into a wolf until a few days ago, remember?”

But before they got to ask Mrs. Lucas anything, the Constable showed up again to inquire after Belle, and he was glad to find her safe and at home. It was irritating, because Belle had not even changed her clothes yet, and the state she was in wasn’t helping in convincing people that she was fine. But she agreed to talk to him first. The Constable was young and handsome, and Ruby smiled a lot at him. 

“Name’s Graham”, he introduced himself, and Belle was ashamed for Ruby, who fluttered her lashes at him and showed so much teeth while smiling that even a shark would have been jealous. 

“So, Miss French, what happened in there? Mr. Jones told us one Mr. Hyde attacked him and he could barely make it out of the office.” 

This made Belle angry. Of course, poor Mr. Jones. Never mind the helpless clerk he left behind. Of course Belle hadn’t been in any danger – at least she thought so – but Jones hadn’t known that. He abandoned her nevertheless.

“He could make it out because I stepped in” she said, flat. 

“And then, what happened?” Belle would have suspected some kind of perverse delight in his voice, a lustful shudder at the prospect what things this Mr. Hyde could have done to the poor, innocent clerk, but the Constable was quiet, pure professionalism. That made her like him, at least a little, and her answer was not as cold as it could have been.

“Nothing happened. He left.” Belle had never been good at lying, and she knew it. Her cheeks flushed, and she hoped Graham wouldn’t notice it. But he did.

“He left, without the papers he came for in the first place. And you disappeared, too, because when the police that Jones had called arrived, you were nowhere to be found. There was nothing except for a hand, blood, paper and a piece of clothing that clearly belonged to a woman.”

“Well…” There was not much she could say. At least nothing that came to her mind. 

“And there were witnesses who saw an ugly man walking away with a pretty young girl at his side. A young girl whose dress was kind of in a mess.” Graham didn’t sound accusing, but the way he looked at her dress told Belle that he wouldn’t fall for a lie either. He let her know he knew already enough of what had passed.

“Belle, what happened back there?” Ruby sounded worried in earnest now. “What did he do to you?” 

“Why does everybody just assume he did something to me that I didn’t want him to do? He’s not that bad.”

Graham frowned at her. “He just cut off the hand of your employer. And as far as I know, he’s wanted for the assault on Dr. Whale. Whom he nearly beat to death. Looks pretty bad to me.”

“Well, he never hurt me. That’s all I can say.”

“Oh Belle.” It was only a whisper, and Ruby looked at her as if she had her heart ripped out. “Belle, do you even hear what you’re saying?” 

“Yes, of course. It’s the truth, you know.”

Graham rubbed his chin and looked concerned, his eyebrows raised and his lips curved in a sad little smile. 

“Well, perhaps you should clean yourself up a bit, change, and eat something. And in a few days, we’ll talk again.” His words were affronting, but his tone was not. He seemed more sad than anything else, and for a short moment Belle felt understood. She even managed to smile when he left, and wave at him. Then she locked herself into her room and did as he had suggested, washed, changed her clothes – though she was a little miffed then, because with her dress ruined she had only two dresses left. But she could mend it, it was not that hard to sew on some buttons. The worst damage was the blood, though, and Belle hadn’t even known it had been there and soaked her underskirts. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? It was already brown and crusted, and she would probably never get it out. At least not without anyone noticing. Normally Mrs. Lucas laundered her clothes when she had laundry day. 

It was the sight of the blood, the visible sign of what had happened, that brought back her tears, and for the first time since the full moon, when she had believed Jekyll dead, she cried. He might not be dead, but he was not alive either. And Belle knew what she wanted, but she had no idea of how to get it. 

  



	14. Fourteen

Ruby knocked for the fifth time at her door. Just as the four times before, Belle didn’t open. 

“Go away”, she said, muffled by the cushion she had drawn over her face. But Ruby didn’t go away this time.

“Belle, open that door or I’m going to tear it down. You can’t just hide in there forever.”

Belle threw the cushion at the door, but the thud it made when it hit the wood was more than unsatisfactory. 

“Of course I can hide. I’m doing it right now.” She nearly yelled at the door, and Ruby was quiet for a moment or two. 

“Belle, you have a visitor. Please come out.” 

“I’m sure you’re making this up to draw me out.” 

“Actually, no.” 

Belle waited for Ruby to continue, but her friend kept silent.

“Well, who is it?” Belle asked at last, when she couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

“Just come out.”

Perhaps it was Jekyll. Perhaps he had reigned in Hyde at last and was now able to talk to her. Belle hopped down from the bed and rushed to her door. Ruby waited for her, leaning upright against the wall, arms folded and a deep frown on her face. Belle stopped dead when she saw that face.

“There isn’t a visitor, is there?” Her fingers gripped the doorknob of her door so tight she might have ripped it off. 

“Yes there is. But I don’t think you’re going to like him.” Ruby couldn’t be any more cryptic. But when Belle stepped into Mrs. Lucas’ living room, she understood. 

“Gaston.” 

The man smiled and took a few steps towards her, but he made no move to touch her, and Belle was glad for it.

“Belle! Don’t be so over-enthusiastic in welcoming your fiancé, will you?” She could hardly be any less welcoming, and he knew that, of course. Just when had her life decided to become only more complicated?

“Why are you here?” she asked, and she had a hard time not yelling at him. She had hoped to never see him again, or only after he married some nice little maid and had four to eight children with the poor girl. 

“Your father sent me.” 

Her father couldn’t know what was going on in her life. It was only the day before that Hyde had attacked Jones and dragged her off. Well, technically she had dragged him off. Anyway, there was no possible way her father could have known about this and sent Gaston to her side. 

“Why did he send you?”

“You didn’t write the last few weeks. So he sent me to find out if everything’s alright. You know he isn’t well enough for traveling.” 

He was right. Belle hadn’t written a word to her father since her first encounter with Hyde. Since it all started. She should have thought of it, but her mind was to engaged in thinking about Jekyll – and about Hyde, she had to acknowledge now. 

“You remember we’re not engaged anymore, don’t you? We broke off our engagement when I left for the city.” She had to be sure, since Gaston chose his beliefs deliberately. If he chose to ignore the break off, she’d have a hard time to get rid of him. And she might not know Jekyll very good, but she knew Hyde enough to know he wouldn’t like a man in her life who claimed to be her fiancé. She pictured the encounter of Hyde and Gaston for half a heartbeat, and she couldn’t help but think that big and bold Gaston would have small chances of getting out of it with all his teeth in place. She smiled then, and Gaston, who had no idea what was on her mind, smiled back. 

“Of course I remember. I just thought, after you had time to think about it, you’d come to your senses…”

“You mean after you gave me an appropriate amount of time to miss you, you could just come here and I’d fall into your arms, swooning like a dying swan?” Belle already knew that Gaston didn’t know her, but she was still amazed at how little he really knew her. All she was to him was a pair of blue eyes and a pair of nice curves. But then, Belle didn’t know herself anymore. She clenched her teeth, because the rush of aggression surging through her was new and frightening. 

“Well…yes?” 

Oh my, this man was even more foolish than she’d thought. “Of course you did”, she said, and she was amazed that she didn’t even need to unclench her teeth to do so. 

“Well, I’m alright. You can go back to father and tell him this, and then you can find a nice little girl to marry you, wipe your boots and roast your kills.” She sounded harsher than she intended, and Gaston took it all the wrong way. Naturally.

“Are you worried I might love someone else?”

Belle wished she had something to throw at him. Instead she clawed her hands into her skirts and took a deep breath. 

“No Gaston. I just don’t have time for this.” And without another word, she turned around and left the room. She still hadn’t spoken to Mrs. Lucas, but with Gaston there, she couldn’t do that anyway. She decided she might just as well go to Jekyll’s house and see if he had come back. If not, she knew where to find Hyde. She just didn’t know if she was ready yet to go back to him. 

Of course Gaston didn’t let her go just like that. He followed her out of the house and down the street, and Belle was more than annoyed by his persistence. 

“I have to run some errands. Alone.” Her jaw was still unwilling to unclench itself. But Gaston didn’t get the warning. He just trotted along, looking a bit like a kicked pup.

“Belle, you know you don’t mean it.” 

“Of course I do.” She walked faster, hoping to shake him off her heels. When she reached Jekyll’s house, she was out of breath, but Gaston clung still like a shadow at the hem of her skirts. Hopper opened the door, and Belle slipped inside and closed the heavy wooden door right into Gaston’s face. She heard him pounding at the door and shouting her name, and Hopper raised his eyebrows till they looked like fuzzy red caterpillars on the brim of his glasses. 

“Are you in trouble, Miss French?”

“Do I look like I’m in trouble?” She was ashamed as soon as the words were out. Her composure was threadbare since the full moon, and Belle had more and more difficulties to reign in her temper. It was not like her to be this snappish.

“Well, I’m going to fetch Dr. Jekyll then.” Hopper said it with so much dignity that Belle felt even more ashamed.

“He’s back?” she asked, and Hopper seemed to grow even more grave. He nodded, but it was only a brief dipping of his chin, not the kind of vigorous nod she had imagined from him.

“Yes, he came back yesterday. I thought you knew that, since you’re here…” His eyebrows hopped once more, and Belle wondered if his name really was Hopper or if he was named for those furry things in his face. Gaston still pounded at the door. 

The butler disappeared, but returned shortly after with an expression of utter sorrow. 

“I’m sorry, Miss French, but Dr. Jekyll says he’s not at home.” 

Belle froze. She hadn’t thought Jekyll could hurt her any more than he already did. Apparently she was mistaken. Well, she wouldn’t let him do that to her. Ignoring Hopper, who followed her wringing his hands and making faint sounds of distress, she walked up the stairs to the door she knew separated the back of the house from its pompous front. She knew Jekyll had to be there, in his laboratory, searching for ways to get rid of his nemesis Hyde.

And she was right. When she stepped into the dimly lit room, Jekyll was hunched over his working table, his back turned to her, measuring shiny liquids in glass bottles. 

“Hopper, I told you to send everyone away”, he said, without even looking back at the door.

“Well, if you want me to go you have to tell me yourself.” 

He almost let slip the bottle he was holding as he turned around with a start. 

“Belle.”

She lifted her chin. Watched him, waiting for him to decide how he should handle the situation. 

“You should go”, he said. Count on Jekyll to make the wrong decision. She took a step towards him, but he lifted his hand as if she was attacking him, making her stop. “Stay back. You can’t come near me.” 

“Why not?” Her legs trembled, and her stomach burned inside her. She was going to throw up with the bitterness that rose inside her. His nostrils flared.

“I can’t control… him . With you here.” 

“So this is about Hyde? I’m not scared of him, you know.” She seemed to be the only human being that wasn’t afraid of Hyde. Either there was something seriously wrong with her or the rest of the world was amiss. 

“You should be scared. You should fear for every inch of your life.” Jekyll moved towards her, his knuckles white on the handle of his cane. The air around him oscillated with his tension, and Belle had to swallow back the lump that formed in her throat. He spoke so low his voice was not more than a velvety growl that embraced her like a constrictor. 

“He could kill you with a flick of his wrist. You might think he’s going to kiss you, when in truth he’s going to suffocate you, deny you to breathe just to see the life slip from your eyes.” He was so close now he almost touched her. Belle didn’t back away. She squared her shoulders and planted her feet firmly on the ground. She didn’t intend to let him scare her. But when he lifted his hand and trailed the line of her jaw with the golden handle of his cane, she had to fight the urge to recoil. He hooked his cane under her chin and tilted her head up, forcing her to look at him. There was more of Hyde in his features than she’d ever seen there before. But at the same time he was less than Hyde. The other might have been driven by his urges, giving in to them and follow every desire, but he was at the same time more at peace with his being than this man was. Jekyll was terrified. Horrified by the things his other self might do. 

“You have to trust yourself”, she whispered. “I trust you.” 

“Well, you shouldn’t.” He bent his head down, and inhaled so deep she almost felt her skin cooling where he sucked off her scent. She thought he would kiss her, but he stepped back. She swallowed when he took the cane away from her skin. Her chin prickled, and she was not sure if it was fear or arousal that made her knees weak. 

“Go”, he said, and his expression was blank. As if he didn’t even see her.

“Tell me at least about the infection you talked about.” 

His expression didn’t change, and he seemed to form each word carefully, as if it was a small weapon. “She could have infected you with her lycanthropy. You’d be like her.” 

Belle staggered back. The room was spinning, the air so heavy she nearly buckled under its weight. Jekyll’s face didn’t betray his feelings, if he had any. He just watched her, like one would watch a fly caught in the sticky film of a flypaper, fighting for every tiny bit of its life. 

“It would explain your attraction to  him . It’s something that makes you alike.” His voice was cold. Bare of compassion. Did he hate her for this? Or was it that he begrudged Hyde her affection?

“Are you saying I could love a monster because I’m becoming one myself?” 

“I didn’t say you’re a monster.” Still his voice didn’t change. It was leveled, left his words devoid of any meaning.

“Yes, but you think of yourself as one.” 

He didn’t object. He just watched her.

“Well, I don’t think Ruby is a monster. I don’t think Hyde is one, either.” She straightened, aligning every bone of her spine. Only then did she realize that she had left him out of her statement, and he had noticed it, too. A sad little smile curved his lips upwards.

“How peculiar, isn’t it, that the true monsters are the ones that look the least like it?” 

Belle bit her lip. She didn’t know what to say anymore. She had intended to talk with him, talk about them, but now she was less than sure there was a “them”. She didn’t even know how much Jekyll knew of the things that had passed between them. 

“Do you remember…what you did when you were…” She couldn’t finish. She couldn’t even think of them as two men anymore. Jekyll  was Hyde. 

“When I was Hyde? No. Your secrets are safe with him.” 

Why did it have to be this complicated? Everything would be so much easier if she didn’t have to say everything twice. She had told Hyde she wanted him as much as Jekyll. And somehow she had assumed Jekyll wanted her, too, since he  was Hyde. And she had no doubts about Hyde wanting her. Slowly she began to feel like not the room was spinning, but she herself. Cold sweat covered her skin and made her shiver.

“Are you alright? Let me feel your temperature.” Jekyll didn’t wait for her to consent. He stepped closer again, taking her chin and keeping it still while he felt her pulse. This was so much like the picture her mind had conjured when she watched him examine Ruby that it was as if she had experienced it before. Her heart raced, thumping painfully in her chest, and she had to lick her dry lips. He seemed oblivious to her state. She was a patient in his eyes. Not more. He felt her forehead and smelled her sweat on his fingertips, and for the length of an heartbeat she saw the greed in his eyes, the hunger that betrayed his carefully composed outside. But he fought it back. 

“You’re burning up.” He brought back the distance between them, and Belle longed for his touch, for his nearness as soon as he was gone. She was empty. 

“Is this a sign of infection?” 

“Probably”, he said. It was not what he said that hurt her, but the way he said it. Cruel in his professionalism. She had ceased to exist as a human being, was a mere object of academic interest to him. He went to his work-bench, searching for something in a wooden chest that held glass phials filled with liquids of different colors. He picked one and held it out to her. Belle took it, but when her fingertips grazed his skin, he flinched. It made the bones in her forearms hurt and her throat fill with bile to see him shy away from her. 

“Take this, three drops a day. And apply it to the scratches. It might stop the infection. But don’t get your hopes up.”

There were no words left for her to say. She ached to ask him if she had imagined the attraction between them, the thing that pulled them towards each other. Or if the allure had died with the possibility of her becoming a monster. All that was left for her was going back home and wait. 

Gaston had waited for her on the front steps. He grabbed her arm when she emerged from the house, but Belle barely felt his grip. Her body was numb, to numb to feel anything at all. 

“Belle, what did you do in there? It’s not acceptable for you to visit gentlemen unaccompanied.” 

She halted, and when she stared at his hand on her arm, he let go of it. “For heaven’s sake, Gaston. Those are not the middle ages. I saw my doctor, that’s all there was.”

“This is your Doctor’s house? Nothing more?” He seemed so relieved that a wave of senseless fury surged through her and she imagined to tear open his throat with her teeth. She tasted blood and it took her a moment to realize it was her own. She had bitten the insides of her cheeks till they bled. 

“Yes. Nothing more.” 

It might just as well be the truth. 

  



	15. Fifteen

Belle decided not to go back to Hyde anytime soon. It hurt not to do so, caused her physical pain, tore at the seams of her heart and drilled into her bones, but after she had spoken to Jekyll, she didn’t want to risk the chance of encountering him again. She needed time to think. And what good was it to see the one but not the other? 

Gaston settled in at Mrs. Lucas’, another rock in her shoes, and just as oblivious to her distress. At first she tried to nudge him gently to go home, tell her father everything was alright – though it clearly wasn’t – but he didn’t get her hints. Maybe he chose to ignore them. Just so, every day he crossed her path brought her closer to rupture with wrath. She couldn’t even go to work, since Mr. Jones was still recovering, and so she helped Ruby, scrubbed the floors, cleaned windows and laundered every piece of cloth to be found in the house. She tried to read, but for once in her life her books left her restless and unable to relax.

“You’re like one of those wild animals in the zoo” Ruby said, after watching her pace back and forth for some time. “You know, those tigers in their tiny cages who pace behind the bars until their stripes become all blurred?”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say.” 

“I’m trying to say you’ll lose your mind if you don’t get out of here. It’s time to face the world again. You shouldn’t let one terrible moment of fear lock you in for the rest of your life.” 

Belle halted and stared at her friend. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, I get it, you were attacked and that was terrible, but you are strong. You can’t allow one filthy bastard to turn you into…this.” Ruby looked Belle up and down. 

“But I told you, I wasn’t attacked…” She paused. She had told it a hundred times, but Ruby refused to believe her that Hyde hadn’t done anything to her. Well, nothing she didn’t want him to do. But since she didn’t want to discuss the details of their encounter, Ruby chose to believe what she wanted to believe, regardless of what Belle did or didn’t say. “You know, if I really had been attacked, those words of advice you give probably wouldn’t be all that helpful.” 

“Well, what can I say, I’m a wolf, not a mesmerist.” 

Another thing Belle didn’t want to discuss was the possibility of her becoming a wolf as well. She knew Ruby wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she had cursed her friend to the same fate she suffered. So she had chosen not to talk to Mrs. Lucas after all when she came back from Jekyll. She took his potion and applied it to the scratches and hoped. She knew, of course, should she really turn, she had to tell them. 

Nearly a week had passed since she had gone to see Jekyll, when Constable Graham came back to speak to her. This time, though, he wasn’t alone, but accompanied by Jones, who wore his arm in a black sling, a visible sign of his suffering. His stump was covered in bandages, neat and clean, but the stench that seeped through them made Belle choke. She tried to breathe flatly, tried to ignore the foul reek that soon filled the room, but it was impossible. 

“I hoped you could give me another account of what happened when Hyde attacked you”, Graham said, a gentle smile on his lips. Belle smiled back.

“And you hoped it would be a different story this time?” 

“Well, I figured you were still in shock last time we spoke. Now you had some time to recuperate…” His words hung there, and he waited for her to say something. Belle smoothed out her dress, picking invisible threads from it. She didn’t look at the men. 

“I’m sorry, Constable, but there is nothing else I could tell you.” Belle flinched when Jones snorted rudely.

“Oh bloody hell. They found your underthings in my office. And you want to tell me that nothing happened?” Jones had crossed the room and towered over her, staring at her with feverish eyes. Belle held her breath because the fetidness that wafted around him made her retch. She didn’t rise from her seat but stared up at her employer. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing, yes. And even if those clothes were mine – and you have no way of telling they are –it would make no difference at all.” Her voice was strained, thin, breathless because she didn’t want to inhale too deeply. 

“It would alter the charges”, Graham said. Jones didn’t blink and didn’t let her out of his eyes. It was as if Graham wasn’t even there. 

“You’re telling me in earnest he didn’t fuck you there? Did you like it so much?” 

Belle gasped at his vicious words. His face was contorted, dripping with contempt, even hatred, and Belle was too shocked to speak. Graham wasn’t.

“Jones. Enough. Out, now.” He laid his hand on Jones’ shoulder, but Jones didn’t listen. Graham had to drag the other man out of the room. He looked apologetic when he came back, but Belle wasn’t in the mood to forgive.

“I’m so sorry, Miss French. He’s not himself.” 

“I’m afraid that’s exactly what he is. Why did you even bring him here?” 

“Well, wasn’t my best idea. Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything that came back to your mind? A smell, something he said, anything that tells us where he could be hiding?” Graham’s eyes didn’t leave her face, and heat rushed to her cheeks. 

“Nothing”, she said, and her throat twisted the word into a hoarse, cracking sound. Graham waited, and the silence nearly compelled her to say more. But she held her tongue. She could tell he knew she was holding back, but he didn’t probe further. 

“Well, then. If anything comes to mind…”

“…I know where to find you.” She watched as he left the room, his strides smooth like the movements of a wolf. There was something wild about him, like a faint smell of moss and green wood. She liked him, somehow. Though, thanks to him, she had to look for a new employment. There was no way she could keep working for Jones. If there ever had been something good in him, it was gone. 

She didn’t tell Ruby at once what had passed. Just for some time she wanted to pretend that everything was fine. Everything was how it was supposed to be. She had a job, she was confident and positive about her future. There was no monster lurking in the dark, neither inside nor outside her skin. There was no man waiting for her to marry him and be his little wife and no man that had rejected her in the cruelest fashion after making her succumb to him. No, she corrected herself silently. He didn’t make her succumb. She did that all by herself. 

Her resolve to stay away from Hyde began to crumble. Of all the things that had made her life complicated lately, he was the one with whom everything was simple. And she longed for simplicity. Longed for a clear path to choose. But then, she admitted, it was not really that simple. Being with Hyde was easy. But staying with Hyde was not. 

She needed to breathe. Ignoring Ruby, who watched her with an anxious expression, she set out for a walk. It was raining and getting dark, but Belle didn’t care. She didn’t care either that her feet took her towards Cavendish Square. Jekyll’s house loomed there in the growing darkness, windows alight like shining eyes, and Belle stood there and stared at it. She didn’t go near it, had no intention of going inside and talk to Jekyll. She just wanted to feel her heart for a moment, feel the cracks and splinters. Then she turned and walked away. The rain was coming down in heavy blows by now, drenching her dress and her laced boots. She watched her steps and tried to avoid puddles, so she nearly toppled over when she collided with someone walking in her way. The man grabbed her arms and pressed her tightly to his chest to prevent her from falling. 

“I’m so sorry, Sir!” 

“I’m fine, Miss. You should have brought an umbrella. Then you could watch your steps.”

She looked up at his face. It took her a moment, but she recognized him. “Mr. Jefferson.”

“Miss French. Are you alright?” He still held her, she realized, and she broke free with a start. “I’m sorry”, he said. 

“Well, that makes two of us.” Belle chewed her lower lip and searched for something to say. She had never talked at length with him, only trivial exchanges about the weather or his daily walks with Mr. Jones. 

“What brings you here, at this hour and in this weather?” He sounded amused, but Belle was not sure. She was never sure with him. He had a certain gleam in his eyes that made her nervous.

“I needed a walk.” 

He tilted his head and smiled in a way that made her shiver. “Lovely weather for a walk.”

“Yes, indeed. So, what brings you out?” 

“I think I may have lost my hat.” 

“Well, that’s…strange?” Belle was at a loss. His hat? “So you don’t feel comfortable with the hat you’re wearing?”

Jefferson stared at her, and Belle was sure she must have said something utterly stupid. Then he shook his head and felt the brim of his black tophat. “Extraordinary. You found my hat.” 

“I think I should go now.” Belle wanted to get away from Jefferson, fast and far. He still smiled that strange smile, and she could see the white in his eyes. 

“Please, Miss French, take my umbrella. As a small gesture of my gratitude.” He extended his black umbrella, and Belle felt compelled to take it, though she didn’t like it. At least it would provide her with some kind of weapon, should she need one. He strolled away, whistling some merry tune, and Belle watched him dissolve between veils of rain. Just as she wanted to turn and walk away, she saw another familiar figure limping her way. It was too late to disappear, she realized, as their eyes met. 

“Miss French.” Jekyll nodded curtly. Belle clutched Jefferson’s umbrella so tight she was afraid she’d break it. 

“What happened to my name? Have you forgotten it already?” 

He halted a few paces away from her. Far enough so she couldn’t hit him with her new weapon. 

“I realized we should never have gotten on a first name basis.” 

Oh, she would hit him. Hard. 

“It’s a bit late for that. I don’t care that you think you and Hyde aren’t the same person. For me, you are Hyde. And with him, I’m very much on a first name basis.” She gesticulated with the umbrella, and Jekyll stepped back, brought more distance between them. He looked almost a bit afraid, but Belle didn’t care. 

“Please…Belle. It’s for the best. He’s dangerous. He……I turn more and more frequently. I can’t control him.”

“Is this you trying to protect me?” She stepped closer and watched him retreat again. “Well, have I got news for you, then. I don’t want you to protect me. I want to be with you.” 

“You shouldn’t.” Now he stood still, squared his shoulders and planted his cane in front of him. He did this often, she knew, when he wanted to put up a barrier between himself and others. He was so far away it was painful.

“Here’s something you don’t know: The world is full of dangerous men. I met at least two of them today. And there are dangerous women, too. I live with one. Believe me, if Ruby could get her hands on you, she’d tear your throat open before you even knew what’s coming. But there is good in you. I see it. There’s good in Hyde, too. You said it yourself. But even if there wasn’t, I’d still choose you.” 

His face crumbled. His distance and coldness slipped away like a mask, an deep lines etched his face. “Belle. You don’t know what you’re asking of me.” 

“Don’t I? Then show me. I wanna know.” She was so close now their noses almost touched. He trembled. Then he stepped back. 

“I have to get rid of him first.” When he turned and walked away, her heart was only a black hole in her chest, nothing more. 

“You’re a coward, Jekyll. You need courage, to let me in.” 

She didn’t think he heard her. And when he heard, he didn’t listen. 


	16. Sixteen

It was fully dark when Belle finally got back home. She felt empty, and not even Gaston could provoke her anger when he asked where she had been, with that air of violated ownership he always showed when talking to her. She ignored him and went straight into her room where she fell onto her bed and slept without even taking off her soaked dress or her boots. 

There was no point in getting up early. She had nowhere to be, nowhere to go. She slept till the sun was up high, holding the rain at bay for once. Belle didn’t even change her rumpled dress before she went down to breakfast. Ruby creased her nose when she saw her, but she was far too excited with other news to bother. 

“They found a body at Whitechapel.” 

“And this is good news?” 

“No, no, this is terrible. The poor woman, her throat was cut and…well, but now they’ll find him.”

“Who?” Belle didn’t see the connection this had to anything. It was not as if murder was out of the ordinary in London, and it was not as if there was only one possible suspect for every crime committed in the city. But Ruby looked at her as if Belle just didn’t want to see what was right in front of her eyes. 

“Hyde, of course.” Somehow Belle should have known Ruby would leap to that conclusion. 

“Why do you think he had something to do with this? Is there no other person on this earth that could be possibly as vile and evil as to do something so terrible?” 

“Of course there are. But they found something with the body of that poor thing, and it ties him to the murder.” 

Belle hardly heard her friend talking. All she heard was the blood roaring in her ears, the brawl of it drowning everything else. She saw Ruby’s lips move, but she was too far away to hear her. This couldn’t be true. 

“How do you know this?” she croaked, clinging to a chair, a last piece of wood to hold her upright. Ruby blushed, and a coy smile fluttered over her face.

“Graham came by this morning”, she said. “He told me all about it.” 

“So what did they find?” 

“A broken cane with a name etched into the handle. Jekyll’s name. So they went to Jekyll, and he told them Hyde had stolen this cane from him.” 

An odd sound escaped Belle. This couldn’t be right. She had seen Jekyll, with his cane. Of course she knew that Hyde stealing Jekyll’s cane was nonsense. But what if Jekyll had killed that woman after meeting her the evening before and now laid the blame on someone who didn’t even exist? What if he had turned, what if Hyde  had killed her? 

“Are you alright? You’re as white as a sheet.” Ruby laid a hand on her arm and patted her cheek. Belle nodded, though nothing could be farther from the truth. Every single word Jekyll had told her about Hyde spun through her head, but she just couldn’t align it with the picture she had of him. His joy and pride when he made love to her. His tenderness. She couldn’t see him kill a woman. But Jekyll could see it, and he had to know his other self better than anyone. 

“Something is wrong”, Belle murmured, more to herself, but Ruby’s grip on her arm hardened, and when their eyes met, Ruby’s face was as hard as steel, too.

“Don’t do anything stupid, sweetheart.” 

Hyde had called her sweetheart. She shook her friend off and started towards the door. 

“I have to find out the truth.” She didn’t ask for advice or permission, and Ruby was smart enough not to block her way, but her friend was not happy, that much was clear. 

“At least let me come with you.” There was a pleading edge to Ruby’s voice, but Belle shook her head. She didn’t want anyone to come with her, least of all Ruby. Before she set out to go to Hyde’s crooked house, she scribbled down a note and sent it to Jekyll. She didn’t know whether he was Hyde or Jekyll at the moment, or where he was, so she simply wrote 

I need to talk to Hyde .

She didn’t even sign her name on it. Ruby didn’t try again to hold her back, perhaps because of the look with which Belle warned her. Belle was determined to find out the truth, and it didn’t even cross her mind that perhaps the truth was the last thing she wanted to know. 

He awaited her. As soon as she knocked, quiet and doubtful, the door swung open and he yanked her inside and into his arms. He didn’t even let her speak before he pressed his lips on hers, as ravenous as if he’d starved for weeks. It broke her heart all over again. It was this she wanted, and all she had received from Jekyll was rejection. 

“You made me wait too long, dearie”, he said after she pushed him away, gentle but no less determined.

“Did you kill that woman?” She flinched when he hopped back, away from her, with a ridiculous gesture of his hands. 

“Oh, no, that wasn’t me, dearie.” His gaze on her was sharp, piercing. “Don’t you trust me?” 

“You told me yourself that I shouldn’t.” 

“Alas, I’m evil, dearie, but not this evil. Who gave you the idea that this was my doing?” 

“Jekyll.” This was bizarre. Jekyll and Hyde were one and the same, but one didn’t know what the other was doing. Maybe Jekyll really thought he had killed that woman. Hyde snorted and cocked his head.

“Laying the blame on me, the old poltroon, is he? Well, you have to forgive him for this, he doesn’t know it any better.” 

“They found his cane there.” Belle knew she should probably stop talking. She clawed at her dress and remembered it was still the same crumpled dress she wore the evening before. She had to look terrible. She averted her eyes from Hyde, trying to smooth out some of the wrinkles. 

“And he said…what? That I stole it?” 

“I saw him with that cane yesterday. I saw  you .” 

He straightened and made a move towards her. It was only a slight shift of his stance, a tension that surged through his frame, but it scared her. She shrank back, only a tiny sway away from him, but he noticed it with a snarl. 

“You think I did this.” Now he came closer, graceful like the predator he was, and Belle realized that something in the air had changed. Her trust in him, the confidence that he wouldn’t hurt her, slipped away. Every single hair on her body prickled and stood on end. When he came to a halt in front of her, his nostrils flared, and Belle swallowed hard. She remembered the first time he had been this close, back in Jekyll’s house, when he had kissed her for the first time. This time he didn’t lunge at her, didn’t press her against the wall, but his closeness alone made it hard to breathe. He lifted his hand, grazed her neck with his fingertips until he came to a rest in the small, trembling hollow between her collarbones. 

“You’re shaking like the leaf of an aspen, dearie. Am I this terrifying?” 

“I don’t know you.”

“But you do know me. And I think we should…deepen that knowledge of me. You should know I’m not the beast they’re looking for.” He bent his head down, and every fiber, every bone screamed at her to run away, but Belle was frozen into place. Her mind raced, searched for something to say, to fight, but her body was already betraying her. 

“You have to trust me, sweetheart. Trust yourself.” He didn’t quiet kiss her. His lips paused only a hair’s breadth from hers. She stared at those lips, the thin smile he wore like armor. He wouldn’t close the gap, she knew. He waited for her to do it.  Do the brave thing , her mind whispered. But what was the brave thing? She stepped back, and the smile left his face. 

“Well, dearie, looks like you didn’t want me after all.” He used that high pitched voice she hated so much. Before she knew what she was doing, she punched him in the chest. He staggered back, clutching his chest where she’d hit him. Belle stretched her fingers, felt the pain and relished it. It was her pain. Hers alone. 

“You’re a vicious little thing, dearie. I like that.” His smile was back, but it was more teeth than anything else. Like a snarling wolf. This time it was her that closed the gap between them. It was her that stepped so close their skin almost touched. 

“Did you kill that woman?” she asked, one last time. 

“I’ve never killed”, he whispered, and she believed him. Before her mind could tell her about the folly this was, about her idiocy, she pressed her lips to his, hard and possessive. He succumbed, opened himself up to her, and she took all he gave. It was her that pressed him against the wall this time, her that searched his mouth with her tongue, her that took all he was willing to give. She felt him tremble, heard him moan into her mouth, and she knew. He wasn’t able of committing such evil deeds. His doings were out of passion, out of longing and craving, but he was not cruel. He did not hunger for blood. He was only hungry for her. 


	17. Seventeen

Belle didn’t break their kiss until she started feeling dizzy, until the need for air became stronger than her need for him. Even so, it was Hyde who tore her away, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling back her head, exposing her throat to his tongue and teeth. He planted kisses and tiny bites on her skin that didn’t hurt at first, but the pain accumulated, grew with every mark he left on her, and made her groan out the need to feel more. She pressed herself against him, clawed at his shirt to scratch him out of his clothes, and she didn’t mind when he ripped open her dress, though a tiny voice in her head noticed that she now had only one dress left. She needed to feel his skin on hers, needed to cross the distance, the barrier that was clothes and skin and flesh. His nails dug into her flesh when he dragged her down to the floor where she landed on top of him, straddling him and crushing him beneath her.

He tugged at her dress, her corset, the chemise and was more and more frantic when he couldn’t get rid of the fabric between them. “This won’t do, sweetheart”, he murmured between kissing and biting, “You have too many clothes on. I need you naked.” 

Belle let out a shaky laugh. Somehow they hadn’t managed to do this without their clothes getting in the way yet, and he was right, she needed him naked, needed to feel every inch of skin. She dismounted him, staggering to her feet, but when he wanted to follow her, she stopped him with a gesture of her hand. 

“Stay there. I don’t want you to ruin my clothes completely.” He knelt at her feet, devouring her with his eyes while she undressed, taking her time with buttons and garters and laces, and her blood rushed through her veins, scorching, searing her from within. When she stepped out of the puddle of her clothes, he grabbed her waist, yanked her closer, pressed his face against her belly, and she ran her fingers through his hair, scraped his scalp, pulled back his head and bent down to kiss him. Hyde wrenched her down on her knees and licked and bit his way down from her collarbones to the tip of her breasts, pinching one nipple and teasing the other with his tongue. 

“I’m no longer sure who’s beast and who’s prey, dearie”, he whispered, and his breath condensed on her chest. Belle giggled, a strange sound that burbled up inside her and erupted like a snort through her nose. “Well, that makes it plain then. Only the fiercest beasts make sounds like that.” He pushed her down on her back and slid his palms along her ribs, over her belly, cupped her breasts and slid finally down to her thighs and parted them. Belle’s breath caught in her throat then, and she moaned, begging for his touch. He knew where she needed him the most, how he had to stroke and tickle her, and he made Belle tremble at his fingertips. 

“You like this a lot, don’t you”, he said when he drew back his fingers from her core and looked at the glistening wetness on them. Belle bit her lower lip in an effort to hold back her pleading for more, more touch, more feel, more of him. But there was no need for her to say it out loud. He watched her face, a feral grin on his lips, and touched his fingertips to her lips. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart”, he rasped, freeing her lower lip from her bite. Belle’s tongue shot out, to her own surprise, and she licked over his finger, tasting herself on it. Hyde raised his brows and puckered his lips. She saw how his pupils dilated, his nostrils flared with his mounting arousal. When he moved over her, shoved himself between her parted legs, she groaned, because there was still the fabric of his pants between them. 

“Take them off.” It was a hoarse command, not a plea, but he only chuckled breathless and rolled his hips so she could feel him hard against her loins. 

“Say please, dearie. Show some manners. You’re always complaining about mine.” 

A low growl formed in her throat, a sound she had never heard from herself before, and she shoved him away, on his back, ripping at his pants without grace or prudence, and her nails left long scratches on his skin when she pulled them down. He winced in pain, but when Belle licked over the scratches he sucked in air as if it was his last breath. 

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” He buried his hands in her hair, pulled her up, over him. Belle mounted him, led his erection to her entrance and slid down on him, slowly and savoring him with every nerve ending tingling. 

“Only if you beg for it, beast.” She licked over his throat, his jaw, over his lips, sucked in his lower lip and bit him. He buckled beneath her, and there was no rhythm, no finesse, nothing in their movements but hunger for each other. Belle’s world came undone in a mixture of sweat, pain and pleasure, and Hyde’s face contorted with his last frantic thrusts inside her. Belle fell to his side, panting, holding on to him, but unable to form words or even thoughts. 

“Some time in the future we should try the bed, dearie.” 

“Yes. I never knew you could do all those…things outside the bed.”

Hyde laughed. “You’re surprisingly perky, dearie. I like that.” He raised himself up and caressed her cheek, taking one strand of her hair and tickling her with it. He looked soft. Unbent. The tension that vibrated usually in every movement was gone, and Belle smiled. 

“What’s so funny, dearie?”

“You look like a kitten. A bit as if you fell into a bowl of milk and lapped it up all alone.” 

“Did you just liken yourself to a bowl of milk?” 

“Um…I guess.” Belle still was too spent to think properly. So she snuggled against his chest when he picked her up and carried her up the stairs, and let him lay her onto the bed, where he nestled himself against her back. She wondered how effortless he had managed her weight, when Jekyll couldn’t even walk without his cane. The thought of Jekyll made her shiver. Perhaps it was better to think of them as two men. It felt insane, maddening, and Belle wished she could just understand what was driving Jekyll. He held her at a distance, wore a mask like armor. And why was his cane found with that poor woman? She turned around to face Hyde, who played with her hair as if he really was a kitten, fascinated by a strand of yarn. 

“If you didn’t kill that women, who did? And why was Jekyll’s cane found there?”

“This is indeed a mystery, my dear. Ask him.”

“You know, everything would be so much easier, if you could just…reconcile.” 

He snorted, an ugly sound of so much hatred that Belle flinched in his arms. “Did he tell you how this happened, dearie?”

“No.” 

“Well, dear Jekyll wanted to be good. He lost someone, because he’s a stupid, stupid man. He thought, as a doctor, there has to be a way to get rid of the evil inside him, a way to extract all the virulence that caused him to throw away the one thing he loved most.” 

“I guess that didn’t quite work out.” 

“No.” Hyde chuckled. “Perhaps, if he had known what curse he was inflicting upon himself, he’d thought twice about it. But even so. Now, as he knows he can’t get rid of his sinister nature, he’s afraid to ever love again.”

“Because he’s sure to drive his love away with his other side.” 

“Funny, isn’t it, that it’s the dark side of your precious doctor that captured you?” He pulled her closer, and she felt him already hard again at her belly. 

“I don’t think you’re his dark side, kitten.” She pinched his nose. “He holds his dark side much too close to ever let go of it.” 

“Don’t be so sure of that, sweetheart.” Belle squeaked when he seized her waist and flung her onto her belly. He laced his hands with hers, holding her down with his body, and grazed her shoulder and spine with his teeth. Belle wanted to hold back the moan that formed deep in her throat, but when he bit the crook of her neck, her body jerked against him. 

“Say please this time, sweetheart.” His breath tickled her ear, and he licked the shell of it, slowly, until she bent her neck to lure his lips to other parts of her. “Want more?” He almost purred, and Belle shivered and rolled her hips.

“Yes, please.” Her voice was hoarse, croaking, and she heard him giggle before he pulled her up on her knees and entered her. She let out a surprised squeal, because he seemed to enter her so much deeper this way. He slid his hand around her, found that point of hers that made her world shatter with pleasure, and Belle heard herself beg for him to thrust harder, more, more, until she screamed for the last time into the pillow beneath her face. He collapsed on top of her, and she welcomed his weight on her, his warmth, the rough feel of his skin on hers. 

“See, I’m not a kitten”, he said when he rolled down to her side and held her. Belle laughed. Then she snuggled close to his chest and drifted off to sleep, and not even the broad light falling through the window could keep her awake. 

***

It was getting dark when she awoke, her limbs tightly interlaced with Hyde. His breath was deep and steady, and Belle relished the feeling of being held, skin on skin. She feared the moment when they had to part again. Just as she tried to free herself, cautious not to wake him, he stirred.

“Where’re you going?” he mumbled, and Belle let out her breath. 

“I have to go home. Ruby will be worried sick.” 

His grip tightened around her. “Let her worry”, he said. “Stay. Please?” 

Belle didn’t want to go. If she left, she had no idea when she would see him again. And she didn’t want to think, didn’t want to face the mess she was in. She wanted to feel normal, sane, and if it was just for one night.

“I’ll stay.” Her words were rewarded by a smile that made her insides twist in anticipation, and a kiss that drowned out all worries.

***

She had to go home eventually. Her stomach growled in a worldly hunger that had nothing to do with Hyde. Her dress was not magically repaired when she got up the next morning, and Hyde snickered at her attempts to make herself respectable. He wanted her to stay, just a little longer, but Belle did not give in. She had to eat. And wash herself. 

But when she reached Mrs. Lucas’ house, she wished she had stayed just a little longer with him. Not only that Ruby awaited her, her face stained with tears and pale as death, but also Constable Graham and Gaston. The latter paced back and forth through the kitchen, while Graham leaned against Mrs. Lucas heavy kitchen table. Oddly enough, Belle’s first thought as she entered had nothing to do with the worried faces that turned towards her, but with the sturdy table and what she and Hyde could do on that special piece of furniture. She didn’t even notice the silence that accompanied her entrance, until Ruby shrieked and darted at her, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Where have you been? Belle, I thought I lost you! They found another body, and I thought he killed you, too! How can you do this to me?” Ruby didn’t stop talking, and Belle had a hard time following her words.

“What do you mean, they found another body?” 

It was Graham who answered her, and his eyes pierced hers as if he could see right through her skin. “A second victim. We think it’s the same killer, only he’s getting more brutal. The first victim had only her throat cut. This time, he did much more with that knife of his.” 

“But this wasn’t Hyde.” 

For a moment they only stared at her. Ruby looked devastated, Gaston as if he had caught the smell of rotten meat. Only Graham remained calm and unmoved. 

“Please explain”, he said, and Belle knew she had no other choice.


	18. Eighteen

After Belle had ended, admitted that she spent the night – all night – with Hyde, Gaston was as purple as a plum. 

“Are you saying you fell in love with him?” His tone was dripping with scorn, and his stare crept over her like filthy fingers. He looked at her as if she was the reeking scat that covered the streets of London. She swallowed. It was hard to remind herself that she had done nothing wrong. Gaston had no hold on her life, no right to rebuke or judge her. It was her life. 

“No, I said I spent the night with him.” Repeating it felt like hammering another nail into her coffin. Gaston bristled, much like a rooster about to crow. But Graham cut him off, and Gaston deflated like a broached pig’s bladder. 

“Well, if Hyde isn’t the culprit, then Jekyll probably lied about the cane. It could have been him.” 

“No!” 

Only when Graham raised his brows did she notice the silence that followed her outcry. Gaston sneered at her, and once again Belle imagined to tear him to shreds.

“And how do you know that? Did you spend the night with him, too?”

Her insides went cold. All of a sudden, her course of action brought her in dangerous waters. She chewed her lip, trying to decide how she should answer him. In a sense, she had spent the night with Jekyll. But she couldn’t relate that to the three people staring at her. Gaston already knew what he wanted to know because of her face, her paper-thin skin. She had never been a good liar. And she had hesitated too long. 

“What are you? Their little plaything?” Belle hadn’t thought his face could get any more disgusted, but she had been wrong. 

“There is no need to leap to ugly conclusions”, Graham said, and Belle felt grateful for his calm, steady words. He was the voice of reason, the only one still thinking rationally. “But if what you say is true, then there has to be another reason for this evidence that points to either Jekyll or Hyde.” 

Gaston snorted, an ugly sound that left no doubt about his contempt, and stormed from the kitchen. Ruby hadn’t said a word since Belle confessed where she had been. Now she stepped to Belle, wary, as if she was afraid of getting hit by her friend. 

“I’m so sorry, Belle. I should have gone with you. I should have kept you from getting hurt.” Tears glinted in her eyes, and her porcelain skin was blotchy and flushed. 

“Ruby, I didn’t get hurt.” Belle wanted her friend desperately to understand, to believe her, and when Ruby nodded, there was a tiny flicker of hope in her heart. But when Ruby smiled, sad as if she was in mourning, that tiny spark of hope died, huffed out instantly.

“No, sweetheart, you didn’t get hurt. But you will. And there is nothing anyone can do about that.” Ruby cupped Belle’s cheek, and her hand was cold like stone. Belle looked from Ruby to Graham, who still leaned against the kitchen table, his arms folded and his legs crossed. 

“Thank you for not judging me.” It was not much, and Belle had thought that it should be a given, but at this moment, she was thankful.

“It’s not my place to judge”, Graham said. He pushed himself away from the table and crossed the room to the door. There he hesitated, and his gaze on her was almost pitiful. “But you should be careful. Those are dangerous men. And more than once in the history of men, love has led us blindly straight to hell.”

“This is a rather generic assertion, don’t you think?” 

“No. I don’t think so.” He smiled, but it was more directed at Ruby than at her, tipped his hat and left. 

Belle was about to collapse onto a chair, feeling that this day couldn’t get any worse, when Mrs. Lucas entered her kitchen like one of those steaming locomotives, and Belle learned that the day hadn’t reached its worst yet. 

“You. This is not a brothel.” 

“Granny!” 

Mrs. Lucas didn’t care for Ruby’s interjection. “I’m not renting to harlots. You have to move out. I have to maintain a reputation.” 

Belle straightened her back. Her spine prickled, about to crumble, but she did not give in. “Well. I guess I’m packing up then. It seems like to be a woman here means to be a whore.” 

Ruby gasped, and Mrs. Lucas face hardened. “I like you, girl, and I rather not have to kick you out. But there is this former fiancé of yours, threatening to ruin me if I don’t throw you out. And since I’m not running a pasties-bakery, I can’t make him into pie. Although I’d rather do that.” 

Heat rushed through Belle’s cheeks, and she cast down her eyes to avoid Mrs. Lucas pity. “I’m sorry”, she croaked.

“I’m sorry, too, girl. But these are not the times that are kind to our kind. Let’s hope they’ll come some day.”

“Where are you going to go?” Ruby’s voice was as choked as Belle felt. 

“I don’t know. I don’t have an employment anymore, now I have no home either…I could go back to my father. I think it’s safe now, Gaston won’t wanna marry me any longer.”

Ruby choked out a quiet laughter. Perhaps that was exactly what Belle should do. There still lingered the possibility of her becoming a wolf over her head, like the sharp blade of a guillotine, and it sure was safer for a wolf to roam the countryside than the city. Although, where sheep and deer were, there were hunters…And she would have to leave Hyde behind. Him and Jekyll and everything there was or wasn’t between them. She had to clutch her sides, press tightly onto her ribcage to keep herself from falling apart, to keep the frantic panting at bay. 

Ruby helped her pack up her things. It was only a little trunk she had, filled with her pitifully few clothes and a stack of books. Apart from that, she only had a small bar of soap that Ruby had given her as a Christmas present and the necklace she had inherited from her mother. When she hugged Ruby and said her goodbyes, she was almost blinded by her tears. 

At first she didn’t know where to go. She was a cast out, alone, like some shaggy cat from the street. She still wore the dress that Hyde had torn the day before, though she had covered it up with her cloak. Still, she felt terribly small and vulnerable, exposed to a city full of strangers. And right now there was a murderer out and about. Belle took a deep breath and straightened her spine, though it felt as if it might crack and break if she tensed up any more. Then she took her trunk and wandered to Cavendish Square. And each step of the way she repeated “Be brave. Fight.” Again and again. Maybe Jekyll didn’t want her, out of some twisted fear, but some part of him did. And she knew she wanted to fight for him. For this part of him. 

When Hopper opened the door for her and looked down his nose at her ragged appearance, she was not so sure anymore if she could do it.

“Is Dr. Jekyll at home?” She hated how small her voice sounded, how insecure.

“He is. Is there anything I shall tell him?” Hopper didn’t open the door any further, and he didn’t ask her inside. Belle lifted her chin. Fight for Jekyll meant above all fight against him and his self-hatred. His cowardice. 

“I’d like to talk to him.”

“If you’ll wait here, I’ll ask if he can spare a moment.” 

He didn’t even let her in to wait for her rejection. She wondered if this was Jekyll’s doing. Of course it was. He was even too afraid to face her. But then Hopper opened the door again and let her in, and the tiny part of her that hadn’t believed he would was relieved. Her knees were shaking when she followed Hopper inside and into the salon. 

“Dr. Jekyll needs another moment. Do you want some tea?” 

Belle nodded. She needed something to hold on. Jekyll let her wait, and the time seemed to stretch endlessly. Belle tried to come up with things to say, tried to form sentences, words that made sense, but in the end her mind was empty and dark. She clutched the delicate teacup Hopper brought her so tight she feared she might crack it. But she couldn’t loosen up her grip or she might let the cup slip and shatter it. She didn’t know how much time went by, but to her it seemed like hours, when Jekyll finally limped into the salon, his grip on his cane – a similar one to the one that he claimed stolen, she noticed – as tight as hers on the cup. He stepped only a few steps into the room and stayed painfully far away from her. He didn’t even look at her, but stared down on his hands that he had planted on the handle of his cane. 

“Miss French. How can I help you?” 

Her tongue failed her. She wanted him to look at her, to see her, she wanted to scream at him, but her throat was blocked by a lump as big as the egg of a swan. Her knuckles were white, and the teacup in her hands was like the last thread that tied her to her life. 

“Would you please look at me?” 

His eyes flicked over her face, shortly, cold, and he seemed short from baring his teeth at her in a snarl. 

“Mrs. Lucas cast me out. Because of you.” 

“Hardly.” 

Belle leapt to her feat, and tea sloshed out of the cup and stained her skirts. She didn’t care. 

“Alright. Maybe it was my fault. Maybe she was right to evict me because I behaved like that strumpet you wanted me to be from the first moment you laid eyes on me. Maybe it was my fault because I took what I wanted instead of waiting to receive something someone else could spare. However, I was not alone in this. I don’t have an employment anymore, because of you. I have nowhere to live and nowhere to go, because of you. Are you going to cast me out, too?” Belle was shaking all over, but she couldn’t say if it was anger or despair. She didn’t even want him to rescue her. All she wanted was for him to look at her. See her. 

“What do you even want? You can’t stay here, don’t you see?” 

“No, I don’t see.” She stepped closer, wanted to force him to look at her. A tremor ran through his hands, his fingers whitening with the force of his grip on the cane. 

“You and me living in the same house would be a very bad idea, dearie.” He looked down at her, his face strained and etched with distaste. 

“I didn’t ask you to live with you. I thought…I hoped…” She didn’t know anymore what she had hoped or thought. “Well, it seems like you have made your choice.” She turned, wanted to leave, but his hand shot out and he grasped her arm. The teacup slipped from Belle’s hand, but neither of them noticed it. He seemed as surprised by his gesture as she was, and they both stared at his hand that burned through the fabric of her Cloak like a band of stinging nettles. He wetted his lips, and Belle felt the tremors running through him. 

“Let me…let me at least buy you a train ticket, so you can go home.” His voice was hoarse. 

“I don’t want anything from you. Well, I wanted you.” She looked back down at his hand, at his tightening grip. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come to you. I don’t know how I got the idea that you could want me.” She plucked his hand from her arm and started for the door. 

“Belle…” 

“I don’t even know your first name, Jekyll.” She had turned around again, faced him, and her words startled him as much as herself. Really, did it even matter? 

“Henry. It’s Henry.” 

“You don’t look like a Henry.” 

“It’s a common name. There is no special type of Henrys. Not that I’m aware of.”

“Does Hyde have a first name?” She didn’t even know this much about the man she loved. Belle thought it to be peculiar, standing there in the house of a man who had loved her in every way imaginable, without even knowing so much as his name. 

“He does.” 

“And are you going to tell me?” 

“It’s Edward.” 

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Well, send Edward my regards. I’m going to miss him.” She noticed the teacup at his feet and bent down to pick it up. It was chipped, a broken thing just like her. Just like Jekyll. She gave it to him, and their skin touched, fleetingly, for the shortest of moments. “I’m sorry for your cup.” 

“I’m sorry that I can’t…help you.” 

She had noticed the pause. “You made your choice. I made mine. Neither one of us will be happy. I just can’t fathom why you are so determined to be unhappy.”

“I have to make good on something. I can’t do that with you here, where I can see you, touch you, where I am in constant danger of becoming…him. He forgets.” He inhaled, sucked in breath as if he was trying to get scent of something. Of her, she realized. Tremors rippled over him, and he stretched his neck, his shoulder blades. He was about to turn. As if he was drawn to her by invisible strings, he moved closer. 

“Stop. I don’t want you to hate me for becoming what you hate most.” Belle raised a hand. The memory of Hyde kneeling at her feet, devouring her with his eyes, hit her, and she could barely breathe.

He halted, but he was shaking, and sweat formed on his skin. 

For the first time in her life, she ran away. She didn’t look back, she didn’t say a word to Hopper, who opened the entrance door for her. She left Jekyll’s house blinded by tears, hauling her trunk down the front steps, and it felt as if she hit a brick wall when she collided with someone on her way to the street. Constable Graham grabbed her by the arm and prevented her from falling.

“Miss French. Are you alright?” He looked from her to the house, where Hopper stood in the door and watched. 

“No. Yes. It’s just…every time I try to run from this cursed place, I’m running into someone.” She wiped away the tears on her cheek and sniveled. 

“Perhaps this is a sign.” Graham patted her arm, and looked her up and down. He noticed the tea stains, Belle could tell, as his gaze lingered a little longer on her skirts. 

“That I shouldn’t leave?” 

“That you shouldn’t come here.” Again he looked to the house, and back to her. “Where are you going? Do you have some place to stay?”

“So you know already.”

“Ruby told me.” 

“I don’t know. He…it’s complicated.” She tried to smooth out her crumpled dress, but it was futile.

“It always is. You could come with me.” 

Belle looked to the house, where Hopper still guarded the doorstep. Graham tilted his head and smiled, a lopsided grin that made him look like a little boy.

“Come where?” 

“Home. To me and my sister. At least until you know where you wanna go.”

Belle hesitated. She had nowhere else to go. And Graham had only been kind to her.

“Why are you even here?” she asked. She wanted to stall, gain some time to make up her mind. 

“Police business. It can wait.” He extended his hand, and Belle didn’t hesitate any longer. She handed him her trunk, and he guided her away from the house, away from Jekyll, and away from her heart.


	19. Nineteen

Belle sat down, just for a moment, to rest her aching feet. She had been walking through London for hours, called upon every lawyer and notary she knew to find a new employment. But Jones had made sure she would never find another position as a clerk in town. Her reputation proceeded her like the fetidness that wafted with a cart of renderers. Most of the offices she called upon didn’t even let her in after learning her name. She had not parted with Jones on the best of terms, but still, this much hatred and malice stunned her. Now she had to go back to Graham’s, another day spent fruitless, and rely on the kindness of the Constable. She had to make up her mind soon, because she was running out of money, and it wouldn’t be long until she wouldn’t even be able to afford a train ticket home to her father. 

When Graham had brought her to his place, a tiny, crammed cottage in one of the outskirts of London, they were greeted by a dark haired girl, who was many things, but certainly not Graham’s sister. Belle couldn’t put her finger on it at first, but something told her that Graham and Mary Margaret were not in the least related. 

“You brought home another stray”, she had exclaimed when Graham introduced them, and Belle thought it to be rude to call her a stray. On the other hand, she was still wearing the same dress that was not only soaked with rain and mud and tea but also torn and ragged by Hyde and his insatiable hands. She looked indeed like a drowned rat, so she supposed it was natural for the girl to assume that Graham picked her out of the gutter. 

Graham had chuckled and steered Belle to sit down at the kitchen table. His grip on her elbow was gentle, and for once Belle wasn’t repulsed by the touch of a male that wasn’t Hyde or Jekyll. She was too tired to object, too exhausted to feel anything but emptiness. Mary Margaret sat down by her side and took her hands in hers. 

“It’s not uncommon for Graham to bring home strays. He saved me, too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, to need help, you know.” Her eyes were kind, her touch gentle, and Belle couldn’t hold back the tears that welled up in her eyes, or the croaking that escaped her throat. 

“I’ll leave you two alone, then, and take care of my business”, Graham said, and Belle was thankful for it. He left, giving her the privacy to break down in Mary Margaret’s arms. Though she knew the other girl for no more than half an hour, it was long enough to feel embraced by her warmth, feel welcomed and understood, and before she even knew what she was doing, she poured out the whole damn affair with Jekyll, her heartbreak at his distance and her confusion because, for one very short moment when he had been sick, she had thought he saw something other in her than just a foolish girl that flung herself at him. She did, however, leave out the parts when Jekyll became Hyde and the distance between them went from ocean-wide to nonexistent. Somehow she still felt obligated to keep his secret. This one at least. 

It was Mary Margaret who gave her one of her own dresses and came up with a plan for Belle’s future. She encouraged Belle to look for a new employment before she considered leaving town. And at first Belle had thought it to be a good idea. Now, however, three days and what felt like hundreds of rejections and doors shut into her face later, she was no longer sure she belonged in this city, this grey and stinking hole of depravity and cruelty. Civilization reached only skin deep here, and worse than her strained muscles hurt the knowledge that Belle could never gain control over her life in a place like this. Not unless she herself became corrupted with the devious ways of living that formed survivors on these streets where blood swept in the gutters and black smoke hid the sky. 

When Belle first came to London, she was blind for the ugly sides of it. She was full of hope, thirsting for her life to really begin, to leave the flat pages of her books. She wanted to grab life with both hands, wanted to feel what she had only read before. Now her life was rotting in her hands, slipping through her fingers like decaying funguses. 

When she came home, her despair had settled deep inside her, a black and twisted knot beneath her ribs. Graham was already there, talking to Mary Margaret, but they grew silent when Belle entered the kitchen and slumped down on a chair. 

“No luck?”, Graham asked, and Belle could only shake her head, too tired to relate every single refusal she had suffered this day.

“Jones?” Mary Margaret asked, tilting her head with a sad smile on her lips. 

“Yes. I have no idea why he is doing this to me, but there is not a single lawyer or notary who would hire me. One of them told me that there’s only one position for me, and that’s on my back. He actually offered me money if I took that position right then.”

“You poor thing.” Mary Margaret was shocked, and she left her place to slip her arms around Belle and hug her. Graham raised his eyebrows.

“Perhaps you should look for something else”, he said.

“I don’t have time. I need to go home.” The thought of it caused a pang of dread inside her. She didn’t want to go home. She didn’t want to go back to her father and bear his disappointment over her failure. She didn’t want him to look for a marriage proposal for his despoiled daughter. Gaston would make sure that her disgrace was known to everyone in her little village. Just as he had made sure she was cast out from Mrs. Lucas. The wrongness of it all burned in her stomach and settled as a constant clot of bile at the back of her throat. She had done nothing but to take the thing she wanted, make a decision for her life, and she had to pay bitterly for it. 

“Surely there are other things you could do”, Graham said. Belle smiled sadly. Yes, there were other things, but none of them were appealing to her. Graham was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, he sounded hesitant and unsure. “I know someone who could help you. She has already placed some of the girls I helped in better positions. She’s happy to help.” 

While Graham spoke, Mary Margaret had turned towards him, frowning, and it was that look that made Belle uncomfortable.

“What kind of positions?” she asked. She felt bad for the mistrust that welled up inside her, but this day had shown her that people rarely were genuine in their concern. Often enough there was an ulterior motive hidden beneath words of kindness. 

“Maids and domestic servants, mostly. It’d be a start.” Belle was aware that Graham had noticed her doubts. His gaze didn’t quaver, but Belle had learned that it seldom did. Graham was thoroughly calm. After a while she nodded. 

“It’d be a start.” 

***

Regina Mills was a hard woman, that much Belle could see from the start. Her rigidity was etched into the lines in her face, into her smile that was never quite warm. Belle wondered why a woman like Regina Mills should feel inclined to help a man with a soft spot for strays. She didn’t do it out of the kindness of her heart, though she tried hard to make it look that way while Graham was still there with Belle. But once he left Belle with Mrs. Mills, the façade slipped from the beautiful face and was replaced by something else. The woman puckered her deep red lips and raised one of her perfect brows while she sized up Belle in her last dress that was left intact. It was not her best one, and Belle was painfully aware of it.

“I could find you a position. A girl with your beauty is most sought after, I can assure you. Question is, are you willing to do what it takes to gain a standing in this world, child?” Belle didn’t like the sound of that. She didn’t like the voice of that woman, a voice that sounded just false. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, of course I could find you a position as a maid in some household. But you would be wasted at such a place. Your fair skin would crumble and shrivel in some dark kitchen, your shiny nails splinter from the constant scrubbing of pots and pans and floors, your luscious hair matted and tangled from steam and smoke. If you’re lucky, I could place you as a maidservant, but this would most likely put you into the vicinity of some salacious old bloke who’d take every chance to get his hands on your tempting curves.” She paused and looked Belle up and down with a most unpleasant smile. Belle folded her arms in front of her chest and decided that she didn’t want to hear what came next. Mrs. Mills tilted her head, and the tip of her tongue crept slowly over her bottom lip. “Why not take the chance and get paid for something that would otherwise be taken from you for free?”

Belle rose from her chair in front of the imposing desk that served the sole purpose to intimidate anyone who came before it. “I’m not becoming a whore. If this is the only offer you have I wasted my time here.” She turned, but a laugh from Mrs. Mills, rich and deep, held her back.

“I would never suggest such a thing, child. I was merely checking what kind of person you are. I could never procure someone whose morals aren’t impeccable. As it is, I have exactly the right position for you.”

Belle didn’t believe a word the woman said, but she was running out of options. She hesitated. “What kind of position would that be?”, she asked finally.

Mrs. Mills smiled, and her teeth glinted all too white against the dark red of her lips. “Sit down, child.” She waited until Belle obeyed her order. “One of my clients was victim of an ugly assault most recently. Now he finds himself in need of an awful amount of help. You would be his assistant in matters of the daily life.” She creased her nose in a whiff of distaste. “The poor man needs to be fed. He needs someone who does his correspondence, too, so it is convenient that you’re able to read and write. Are you interested?”

Belle worried her lip. Being the personal assistant of someone incapable of eating or writing on his own didn’t sound scary. He would not only be unable to eat or write, but also unable to make any unwanted advances on her.

“What’s his name?” she asked, because she didn’t trust Mrs. Mills. The woman raised her brow again, and her smile was that of a cat about to kill.

“It’s a certain Dr. Whale.” 


	20. Twenty

It was a mistake. If Belle ever had any doubts about it being a enormous mistake to start working for Dr. Whale, they went up in smoke the second she stepped into his dimly lit salon where he was hunched in a giant armchair, covered with blankets and puffing away on a peculiar smelling pipe. He wasn’t even capable of holding the pipe himself, he had a servant at his side who held it to his lips. Dr. Whales eyes glinted in the dark, and the smile that lit his face when she entered was as welcoming as dead fish. But Belle had decided to do this. She needed an employment, and deep down, she still felt responsible for Hyde’s assault on Whale. Back then he had claimed it was his personal amusement that made him beat Whale, but the knowledge of Hyde and Jekyll being one and the same made Belle believe that this had been a lie. 

“Miss French. I never thought I’d see you again. You’re like the morning light after a dark night to my weary eyes.”

She wanted to retch then and there. But she mastered the bile that rose in her throat and managed to smile. “It’s nice to see you, too, Dr. Whale.” 

“Yes, indeed. And I imagine you’re very glad to have a position once again, aren’t you? There are not many respectable gentlemen who would have employed you after your indiscretion.” 

And there went any hope she might have harbored about this being some kind of coincidence. No, he had wanted her to work for him. Belle shifted from one foot to the other, clawing her hands into her skirts to get rid of the stickiness of sweat that had formed on her palms. 

“Are you nervous, Miss French? You don’t need to be. You see, your friend made sure I’m no threat to fair maidens anymore.” He cocked his head, and his gaze on her was as insolent as ever. “But wait, you no longer are a maiden, aren’t you?” 

Belle turned on her heel and wanted to leave his house without another word, but the bulky servant that had held Whale’s pipe until now stepped in her way and made her halt. 

“I’m sorry, Miss French, but didn’t you sign the contract that obligates you to work for me at least for the next month? I thought I made that clear to Mrs. Mills.” 

Belle turned back and stared at the wreckage of a man. She had indeed signed a contract, but she had not signed to be treated like that. Whale wore a smile on his lips that twisted his expression into something disgusting and ugly, but at the same time something incredibly sad. He thought he had her cornered, had bereaved her of any choice, but the truth was that no piece of paper could tie her to this place, signature or not. And although she resented his behavior, she also comprehended his motives.

“I’m not the appropriate instrument to exert your revenge on Hyde. And you may be no threat to me, but rest assured that I’m perfectly capable of finishing what Hyde started on you. So, if we’re clear on that, I will fulfill that contract. Four weeks. Not a day more.” Every word was true, and he knew it, too. For a moment, he just eyed her in silence, one brow raised, then he nodded slowly. 

“I think I need a shave. Have you ever shaved someone, Miss French?” 

“I just threatened to kill you and you want me holding a razor to your throat?” 

“Well, it seems that I’m either stupid or tired of living. Or perhaps this is my way of showing you that my intents are not as bad as you think they are.” 

“Then you should work on your way of communication.” At that, Whale chuckled. And for the first time, Belle didn’t see him as a lecherous toad. 

“Alright, Miss French. Teach me some manners and I promise I’ll behave.” 

Oh well, there still was room for improvement.

***

It didn’t take long for Belle to see that it was nothing short of a miracle that Whale was still alive. Hyde had broken both his legs and his right arm, too, and shattered his left shoulder blade. Seeing Whale suffer the pain of his broken bones was hard, and the cruelty of it wrenched her heart in her chest like a giant fist with nails sharp as arrows. 

Whale needed her mostly to write down what he dictated, the vast majority of it being medical observations and considerations and a small part of it correspondence. She came in the mornings and went home in the afternoons. Against Mrs. Mills announcement, it was not Belle’s task to feed him or to do anything that was in any way private or intimate. Even the shaving on her first day was more of a ritual, his way of gaining her trust. Not that it worked. She was still wary of him, but she didn’t suspect him anymore of having some twisted revenge plan that involved her. And he behaved, most of the time. She supposed that some habits were more difficult to overcome than others, and no matter how bad his temper was, how great his pain or how gloomy his mood, he always managed to delight in staring at her chest. Belle took it as a sign that he was improving. 

She herself was restless. At night, when she lay in bed and listened to Mary Margaret’s steady breathing, she couldn’t keep away the images of Hyde that flooded her mind. But more and more often, the memories of him touching her, kissing her, marking her as his, were replaced by images of him beating Whale. Of him attacking Jones. The dull thud of Jones hand hitting the floor haunted her thoughts. Her stomach twisted at the thought of it, and when she closed her eyes, all she saw was blood, blood that covered the floor, blood that covered her, and she tasted its coppery flavor on her tongue. 

“You don’t look well, sweetie”, Mary Margaret said one morning. One week had passed since Belle started working for Dr. Whale, and she hadn’t really slept for almost all of that week. 

“I know. I don’t feel well, either.” Belle had the constant feeling of moving through a maze, of walking upside down, and a deep burning pain had settled in her bones. She was sure that the lack of sleep was responsible for it, but when Mary Margaret felt her forehead and looked worried, she was no longer sure.

“You’re burning up, dear. Do you feel dizzy?” 

“What tipped you off? Was it the constant bumping into the furniture?” 

Mary Margaret raised her eyebrows and cocked her head. Belle thought that she would one day be a really good mother, because she had mastered that reproving look to perfection. Heat rose to her cheeks under that look, and she averted her eyes. “Yes, I feel dizzy. But it’s nothing, really, just lack of sleep. Every time I close my eyes the nightmares are closing in on me and keep me awake.” 

“Perhaps you should go see a doctor.” 

Belle snorted. “I see a doctor every day. And I can’t afford to actually  see a doctor.” 

But Mary Margaret had reminded her that she still had Jekyll’s medicine. She hadn’t take it in a while, and she realized with a dreadful pang that the feeling of uneasiness could just as well be a sign of an infection. Ruby had felt it in her bones, too, every time the full moon approached. It still was some time till the next full moon, but all of a sudden Belle was terrified.

“You’re right”, she said, and Mary Margaret furrowed her brows at the sudden change in her. “I should go and see a doctor.” 

But it were another three days until Belle had gathered enough courage to decide that she really would go and see Jekyll. Though it was less courage and more the realization that she really was ill. She couldn’t remember how it felt not to be in pain, and she was sure she misspelled half of the words Whale dictated her that morning. The other half she probably left out altogether, but she was not sure about that. After work, she managed to go to Cavendish Square, though she moved in a haze and was slightly surprised that she found her way there. But then, when she reached his house, she couldn’t bring herself to go to the door, to knock, to ask for him. Instead she just kept walking, making a rather big detour until she reached Dr. Whale’s home again. Dr. Whale was a doctor, too. Perhaps she should just ask him. She slipped back into the house through the servant’s entrance and came across his valet in the hall.

“Dr. Whale is indisposed at the moment. His doctor is here to survey the healing process. Just as every day at this time.” 

His haughty tone was like a scolding, but Belle didn’t show it the effect it had on her. “I just wait, then. In the parlor.” She didn’t wait for him to object. She didn’t even hear him call after her. His voice drowned in the constant buzzing that filled her head. It grew with every day she didn’t sleep, and at times Belle was not sure if she still was alive at all. She swayed slightly on her way to the parlor, and she had to support herself by putting a hand to the wall. When she opened the door to the salon she realized what the valet had tried to tell her: Whale and his doctor were in the parlor. And his doctor was Jekyll. 

Belle glanced for a heartbeat inside the room. Her eyes met Jekyll’s, and everything else faded from her vision. Without a word she turned around and started to walk away. She heard voices, heard  his voice, but she didn’t halt and wait. When someone grabbed her arm and whirled her around, she flinched.

“What are you doing here?” Jekyll asked in a snarl. Belle blinked. She looked down at his hand, at his fingers that dug into her flesh, and he let go of her as if he had burned himself. 

“That is none of your business.” She was not sure if she put the words in the right order, and perhaps she added a few letters, because Jekyll stared at her with a deep frown on his face. As if she had spoken a foreign language, one that consisted more of hisses and gnarls than actual words. 

“You look horrible. Did you take the drug I gave you?” He actually sounded worried now. Belle licked her lips and tried to concentrate on his words, though her mind seemed unable to hold anything. She saw his pulse throbbing at his throat, saw his jaw clenching. Hyde was in there, somewhere. He was always closer to the surface when she was around, she knew that. Why did she know that? Jekyll had told her, she believed. 

“I hurt.” She had to lean against the wall to keep from falling. She winced when Jekyll laid his palm onto her cheek. Her skin screamed with the pain of his touch, though she wasn’t even sure if he touched her at all. She tried to focus on his face, on his eyes. Never before had she seen them both, Jekyll and Hyde, so clearly in one body. But it was only a short glimpse. When their eyes locked, she could see Hyde retreat, saw Jekyll gain the upper hand, saw his concern drown his other half. 

“Belle, since when are you in pain?”

He held her, she realized. It were only his hands that held her upright. Had it always been this difficult to speak? 

“Belle, dear, since when are you in pain?” 

“Dunno”, she mumbled. It was as if her mouth was filled with cotton balls. Her throat was terribly dry. His hand was back on her elbow, gentle this time, and he guided her back to the salon and made her lie down on a chaise longue. 

“What’s wrong with her?” she heard Whale ask. “This morning she seemed to be alright.”

“You saw her this morning?” Belle smiled at the sharpness in Jekyll’s tone. She was right, he did like her.

“Of course. I see her every morning. She works for me.” 

“And you didn’t notice that she’s burning up with fever? This is not a sudden development. She has lost weight. “ 

“Contrary to what you may think, I don’t look that closely at my employees.” 

Belle chuckled at the indignation in Whales voice. “You’re a swindler, Dr. Whale. You just can’t look away from my breasts.””

“What the hell…” Jekyll’s curse cut through the fog in Belle’s head like a broadsword.

“Oh, don’t act stupid, Edward. He’s staring at my breasts, not yours.” 

“Why does she call you Edward?” That was Whale. Stupid man.

“I have no idea. We should bring her home.” Jekyll sat down on the chaise longue, beside her hip, and he took her wrist and felt her pulse. 

“Do you only check my pulse at my throat when no one is looking?” Belle felt oddly detached from her body, as if her mind was floating under the ceiling. “You should close the window, so that I can’t drift out of it.” 

“Are you sure that it wouldn’t be wise to bring her to an asylum?” Stupid Whale. 

“Shut up, Whale. She’s hallucinating, not insane.” 

“That’s so sweet of you to say, Edward.” Belle giggled. 

“Don’t you dare say another thing”, Jekyll growled, but Belle was pretty sure it was directed at Whale, who was on the verge of saying another stupid thing. She could tell by his eyes that were nearly popping out of his skull.

“Yes, Whale, you should be careful with those eyes”, she said. “They’re going to pop out eventually.”

“Belle, sweetheart, rest.” Jekyll bent down, and his face blocked out everything else in her vision. Those eyes were so warm and beautiful. And there were such deep lines etched around them. 

“I’m not your sweetheart. You sent me away.” For Belle it was a simple observation. She had no strength left to rebuke him. But she almost pitied him when he winced at her words. 

“I’m going to call a hackney now. I’ll be right back, dear.” 

Belle closed her eyes. She felt very tired, and for the first time in days, she actually drifted off to sleep. She didn’t even wake up when someone picked her up and carried her outside and into a hackney. Only when it began to sway and rattle, she opened her eyes to see Jekyll sitting across from her, one hand grabbing a handle, while he steadied her with his other hand. 

“Where are you taking me?” she asked. 

“Where are you residing?” 

“I’m living with Graham. Constable Graham.” 

A frown flashed over his face. “Then I’m taking you home with me.” 

“No you’re not. You’re bringing me home to Graham and Mary Margaret.” She was clearer now, but when she tried to raise herself up, he didn’t allow it. But he didn’t insist on taking her home with him.

“Alright. Constable Graham it is. Tell me the address.” 

When she did, he almost changed his mind again. “I can’t bring you to that hellhole.” 

“You will.” 

He grumbled something, his jaw twitching, but he didn’t object. Belle closed her eyes again, too exhausted to keep them open. 

The next time she awoke, she was in her bed. Jekyll was gone.


	21. Twenty one

Her eyelids were as heavy as if they were made of lead. Belle fought to open them, but when she did, the light in the little room pierced through her head like a harpoon. She winced and whimpered in pain. 

“Belle, dear, relax. I’m here.” It was Mary Margaret’s voice, quiet and soothing, and her gentle hands that cooled Belle’s forehead. 

“Where’s Jekyll?” The question slipped out before Belle could think about it. She tried to focus on Mary Margaret, but her friend was only a dark shape against the blinding white light. Where did all that light come from? 

“He’s not here, dear.” 

Panic nagged at her insides, and she tried to sit up, tried to see something, though she didn’t know why it was essential that she saw Jekyll. Mary Margaret pressed her gently down into the pillows and hummed softly. Why were there so many pillows?

“Stay calm, dear. He’ll be back soon.”

“He’s coming back?” Finally she found Mary Margaret’s face in all the white that surrounded her, and she tried to glue her gaze to her friend, tried not to get lost again, but before she managed to attach herself to that face, to the sad smile, it slipped away again and Belle drifted off. 

There were whispers. Small hissing sounds that tugged at her and forced her to surface again, to come out of the blood-red whiteness of her dreams.

“She should be better by now.” That was Mary Margaret. She was such a sweet girl. 

“Those things take time. The fever broke, but we still have to wait. It’s entirely possible she doesn’t come back.” Poor man. He sounded desperate. As if he had lost something very important. Belle hoped that his love came back. She tried to remember who he was and whom he had lost, because she felt as if she should know this. But her mind was blank, and she hoped Mary Margaret would talk again. She missed her voice. 

“But it’s been four days.” Belle smiled. There she was, sweet Mary Margaret. She heard a rustling sound, someone moving in stiff silk clothes –– or clothes of paper, she couldn’t tell – and then something touched her forehead. 

“Belle, sweetheart, are you awake?” That was that man. He sounded as if he knew her. She tried to answer him, tried to move her lips, but her throat was so dry she only made a poor croaking sound. Then she realized that her eyes were still closed, and she tried to open them instead. It felt as if her eyelids were stitched together, and she had to crack them open. She felt his fingers on her cheek, long, slender fingers, so soft it was disgusting. She didn’t like it. Finally her eyes split open, and after a while the blurry form above her became a face. A smile flitted across that face and made the nose in it a little sharper, pointier. And there were eyes, warm eyes, eyes Belle should know, she was sure of it. 

“Who are you?” she rasped, and the smile vanished. The face drew back, left her vision bare and empty. 

“Is this still the fever?” Mary Margaret was still there, and Belle was glad for it. She didn’t want to be alone with that strange man who looked at her as if she had to know him. 

“Possible. Could be amnesia, too. Happens sometimes with fever this high. When her brain was infected, there’s no saying what damage was done.” 

Belle wanted to say something, wanted to point out that she remembered Mary Margaret perfectly well and therefore her brain couldn’t be damaged at all, but there was that nagging feeling that she should know him somehow. Perhaps she would remember when she just slept for a little while longer. 

The next time she surfaced, it was dark, and she was alone. At least she thought she was alone, because she couldn’t hear Mary Margaret’s steady breathing. But when she moved, and made a sound, someone answered her.

“It’s alright. You’re safe.” It was the voice of that man again, and this time the feeling that she should know him was even stronger. A small flame flickered up and bathed the room in dim golden light. The man came to her side, supported by a cane, and the golden handle gleamed as the light brushed over it. He leaned the cane against a small table by her bedside and sat down on the edge of her bed. Belle watched him, biting her lip, as he took her wrist and felt her pulse. He looked so…wrong. Something about him wasn’t right, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. His touch was light on her wrist, much too light, and she wriggled beneath the sheets to increase the pressure on her skin. She itched, as if she was lying in a bed of stinging nettles, and only pressure could take away the itch. The man bent down to look in her face, and his fingertips grazed her cheek and came to a halt on her temple.

“Do you know where you are?” he asked. Belle turned her head a little, pressed her cheek to his palm, like a kitten that begged to be scratched. He took away his hand and she almost whined. 

“No.” She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know the bed, didn’t know the sheets.

“Do you know who I am?” 

She smiled at this, because she knew that the question was important to him, though he tried to sound indifferent. But there was something in his voice, a quivering hope, and she was incredibly sad that she didn’t have the right answer for him.

“I don’t know you, I’m sorry.” For a moment he looked lost, but then his lips curved into a smile, trying to reassure her with it. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Sometimes that happens.” 

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked, and his hand came back to her cheek, gentle as he traced her eyebrows with his fingertips. It felt natural to let him touch her, and her skin craved for more pressure and more touch. 

“Your body is fighting an infection. It’ll be a few days till we know if you defeat it or not.” 

Belle licked her chapped lips. “I’m thirsty”, she said, and he took her elbow and helped her to sit up. She leaned into his touch, towards him, but he let go of her as soon as she was upright. There was a mug on her bedside table, and he held it to her lips to let her drink. Belle sipped at it, and it prickled on her lips and on her tongue. She was empty, hollow. When he took the mug away, she almost begged for more. 

“What is that?”

“It’s just water.” He helped her to lie down again, but when he wanted to take his hands away from her, she grabbed his sleeve and held him.

“Can you…can you hold me? Please?” 

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, and for a moment he looked like someone else, someone completely different, and Belle almost knew him then, but then he freed his sleeve from her grip and stood up, taking his cane. She closed her arms around herself and pressed tightly, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Is this your house?” She didn’t want him to leave her, didn’t want to be alone in the dark. Perhaps, if she just asked him questions, he would stay.

“Yes.”

“Why am I here?” She rubbed her arms and her belly, but the touch was not enough. She pressed her palms harder to her skin, tensed her muscles, but she didn’t feel less empty.

“So that I could take care of you. At first we thought you would be better soon. But then your condition got worse, and I feared…” His voice trailed off and his eyes were fixed on her moving hands beneath the sheets. Belle realized that she was rubbing her chest, her breasts, and she arched her back and pressed her elbows into her sides to stop it, but she needed pressure, and stroking herself made the emptiness a little more bearable. 

“What did you fear?” 

He tore his gaze from her and looked down on his hands that were folded over the handle of his cane. “I feared you would turn. I couldn’t leave you there, when it was possible you’d…kill them.” 

“Turn into what?” She had no idea what he was talking about, but the thought of her killing someone was ridiculous. 

“Don’t you remember anything?” He sounded a bit waspish, and Belle giggled. Her skin prickled with the giggle, and she pressed her hands down on her groins to stop it. When she rubbed over her skin there, it helped somewhat, but not nearly enough. 

“I’m sorry”, she said, because she thought he looked very sad. 

“It’s not your fault. None of this is.” His voice was low, growling, and it made her shiver and her insides twist. Perhaps she would feel less empty when he filled her with his voice.

“Turn into what?” she asked again. 

“A wolf.” 

Her hips twitched, and she rubbed her back against the mattress. There was something itching under her skin, and she couldn’t quite reach it with the touch of her hands. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Don’t you remember? Miss Lucas scratched you when she turned. On your chest. She might have infected you.”

Belle threw away the sheets that covered her and tore down her nightgown. There were three long scratches on her skin. They were inflamed, red, and thicker than the rest of her skin. They scared her. Only when she looked back to him, to beg him to make them go away, she realized that he didn’t look at her. He stared at the wall, very determinedly, and only then it dawned on her that she had not only bared her chest, but her breasts, too. She retrieved the sheets and pulled them up to her chin. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

His eyes met hers for the briefest of moments, and it made her hips twitch again. His nostrils flared, and he looked away quickly. 

“Sweetheart you have no idea what it costs me not to look at you.” 

“I don’t understand.” She didn’t. She only knew that she felt less empty when he looked at her, when he talked to her and his voice caressed her. It dulled the itching in her veins. She slipped her hands down again, over her breasts and her belly. Her skin tingled and there was a hollow ache inside her. 

A smile flitted over his face, and the sadness of it broke her heart. “Despite what you may think, I’m a monster. And being a monster means making mistakes.”

Belle wrinkled her forehead. “That is a peculiar definition of a monster. I thought monsters are cruel and ruthless.” 

“They are. Monsters are cruel on those they love the most, and who love them most, because they are able to hurt those the most.” 

“Who did you hurt, then?” Belle stopped moving under the sheets and watched him. 

“My son.”

“I’m sorry.” It slipped out before she could stop it, and Belle bit her lip. “I’m sorry for apologizing.” Now he looked at her, and there was a deep frown on his face.

“Belle, dear, how do you feel? You look…heated.”

“I feel…empty. Itching.” She wriggled again, pressed her back into the mattress, and one of her hands slipped from her belly down between her legs. There was the center of her emptiness, the point that was craving for touch, for pressure. A soft moan escaped her lips. 

“I think it’s a side effect of the infection.” His voice was strained now, almost cracking, and he bared his teeth. It was peculiar how hard he tried not to look at her. 

“It feels awful”, she whispered. She was slick down there, but the ache only increased with her touch. 

“It will go away.” He didn’t sound as if he believed in his words. He turned, and Belle wanted to beg him to stay, but he already came back, holding a small phial in his hand. He sat back down at her side, but he remained distant. “I have to apply this to the scratches. It’ll help.” He waited for her to nod before he pulled down the sheets and uncovered her chest. Without wanting to, she arched her back. The liquid burned, and she hissed in pain as he applied small drops of it to her skin. He bent down to look closer at the scratches, and his nostrils widened, something rippled over his skin, and all of a sudden she knew him. She extended her hand, the one that had been between her legs, and touched his bottom lip with her fingertips. He jolted back as if her touch was poisonous. 

“Edward. You’re Edward.” 

“No, I’m not. I’m Henry. Henry Jekyll.” 

Belle closed her eyes. This was wrong. Why was this so wrong? 

“This doesn’t make sense.” She tried to bite back the tears. When she opened her eyes and looked at him again, there was something wild in his eyes. Something terrible. He licked over his lip.

“Why are you not Edward?” she asked. But he didn’t answer. He turned and bolted from the room, and the door slammed shut with bang that made her teeth chatter. Why was this so wrong? 


	22. Twenty two

He didn’t come back. Belle was raw inside and tossed and turned in bed, but she didn’t go back to sleep. Only when the first light of morning crept through the shutters, she drifted off again and did not wake until the sun was high. Someone had opened the shutters, and her room was once again white with light. Then it came back to her. Jekyll. Hyde. The scratches on her chest. When she stirred, there was movement in the room, and someone rushed to her side. 

“Hey there, beautiful.” 

“Ruby.” It was more a croak than an actual name, but Ruby smiled and bent down to kiss Belle on her temple. 

“Since when…?” Belle’s throat was too dry to speak, but Ruby understood. She sat down on the bed and helped Belle to sip water out of a mug. 

“Since when I’m here? Jekyll fetched me this night. He said it’s too dangerous for him to be around you as long as you’re in heat.” 

“He…what?” 

Ruby wrinkled her nose, and there was a grim look in her eyes. “Yeah, he’s a selfish whiner, if you ask me.” 

“But what does he mean…I’m not in heat.” Deer were in heat. Dogs. She was not. But Ruby twisted her lips into something that was half smile and half grimace, and it dawned on her that perhaps she was in heat after all. “Is this a wolf thing?”

Ruby shrugged. “I guess it’s part of the turning. But you were infected. I’m a born wolf, so I can’t tell.”

“Does this mean I’m like you now?” Belle had difficulties to breathe. 

“We don’t know yet. Your body is fighting it, and there’s still a chance that you won’t turn.” 

This didn’t soothe her. She recalled the night, tried to remember what had happened. Heat crept up her neck when it came back to her how she had touched herself. The itching, the emptiness, the longing to be filled with something…

“I don’t think this is being selfish of Jekyll”, she said. He probably was afraid to turn into Hyde, to be tempted by her infamous behavior. And if she would have remembered Hyde this night, she would probably have tried to lure him out. And this would have been cruel on him. Perhaps she really was turning into a monster. 

“Well”, Ruby said, “if you say so. But it looks pretty selfish to me. Although, on the other hand, there are not many men who would say no to a girl like you, when she’s practically begging to get scratched…”

“Ruby!” Belle was shocked, though by the truth of Ruby’s words or the words itself she couldn’t tell. Ruby grinned like a shark.

“I don’t know if this is the most touching proof of true love or just the biggest stupidity I ever saw in a man.”

“Don’t say things like that. He’s not in love with me. He sent me away.” Belle remembered it now, and it broke her heart all over again. The grin slipped from Ruby’s face.

“Belle, I’ve never seen a man more in love than Jekyll is with you. He was miserable when he came to me. He’s really worried about you.” 

Belle avoided Ruby’s eyes. She didn’t want to believe her friend, because she knew it to be a lost cause. Even if it should be the truth, Jekyll would still reject her for some mysterious reason. Ruby snorted.

“Don’t tell me you’re still crying over that bastard Hyde.” 

If Belle had had the strength, she would have laughed. But she was too tired. So she just closed her eyes and tried to ignore the thoughts Ruby had planted in her mind. But like mallows, they grew with thick tap roots and dug deep into her mind. She would never get rid of them.

“How long have I’ve been sick?” she asked. She needed to get a grip on reality, not lose herself deeper in dreams and hopes.

“Five days. And sweetie, you’re still sick. But tell me, how’s living with Graham?” Ruby’s smile was back. Belle had almost forgotten about Graham. 

“I don’t see him that much. I think.”

“Well, I suppose with all those murders going on, he’s a bit occupied.” Ruby chewed her lip, and she was clearly not thinking about murders or murderers. 

“Has there been another one?” 

Ruby blinked and tilted her head. “Right. You missed that.” 

“Another girl?” 

“Another harlot. The third now. And it gets uglier every time.” 

Belle was sure she didn’t want to know the details. Just as sure as she was that Ruby would tell them anyway. But before Ruby could dive into it, there was a knock on the door. Ruby knitted her brows together and stood up to open the door. Only when she stepped aside Belle saw that it was Jekyll, carrying a box in one hand.

“May I come in?”

Ruby looked from him to Belle, before she shrugged and slipped out of the door, without giving Belle so much as a chance to protest. Belle cheeks grew hot. She probably had her lobster face again. Jekyll hesitated for a moment before he stepped in, leaving the door ajar. He moved somehow awkward, with the box in one hand and his cane in the other, while he tried to pull a chair to her bedside with his foot. It was painful to watch, but Belle couldn’t look away either. Finally he placed the box on the bed besides her hip, where it slightly trembled. 

“What’s this?” she asked, pointing her chin to the box. Jekyll sat down, placing the cane in front of him and folding his hands on top of it. He frowned at the box. 

“Hopper told me that Hyde dropped this off.”

“So your butler had to tell you what you were up to. I imagine this is inconvenient.” Belle bit her lip as soon as the words were out, but Jekyll didn’t look offended. 

“It is”, he said. “And I wish I could control what he’s up to.” 

There was a dull sound that came out of the trembling box. Jekyll furrowed his brows and gave the box an ugly stare. 

“I remember”, Belle said, because he seemed lost, and the silence was numbing her and made it difficult to breathe. “I remember you. You sent me away.” 

He winced, but he didn’t look at her. “I did.” 

Belle stared at her own hands then, folded in her lap. “And you’d do it again.” 

“Yes.”

Though she had known his answer, it hurt to hear the actual word. “So, what’s this?” She pointed at the box again. There was another sound coming out of it.

“Apparently Hyde is under the impression that you need…something. It’s for you.” 

“How did you manage to keep him away from me?”

He didn’t answer, but nudged the box gently towards her. Belle ignored it.

“Graham told me that I have to thank you for not being suspected of murder any longer, though someone went through great trouble to make it look like I did it.” Still he stared at the box, as if he was afraid it would burst open and reveal some kind of monstrosity. 

“Do you think it wise to remind me that I lost everything by saving your…you? And do you think a gift could soothe my pain over this, if you’re not even able to present it as yours, but instead disguise it as Hyde’s?” She raised herself a little higher, away from him, and he had the decency to look ashamed. But Belle wasn’t finished. “And then you aren’t even capable of saying a real `Thank you, Belle, for troubling yourself with my mistakes’? Because ‘he told me I had to thank you’ isn’t a thank you at all.” 

The lines on his face deepened, and again he nudged the box towards her. “Belle, dear, please don’t exhaust yourself. You need to recuperate.” 

“Yes. Yes, I need to recuperate, so you can kick me out again. Why did you bring me here in the first place?” 

“I told you…”

She cut him off, sharp as a knife. “You told me rubbish. You could have brought me to Ruby and Mrs. Lucas.  They know how to deal with wolfs.”

“But they cast you out…”

“As did you.”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Belle was sorry, somehow. She had not intended to scold him, to rebuke him, ever. But he had cast her out, and then he had dragged her back when she was unconscious. She tried to comprehend it, tried to make sense of it, but she didn’t succeed. 

“Just tell me why you brought me here.” Her voice was steady, calm, and Belle hoped he couldn’t hear how the shards of her broken heart cut through it. 

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You never had me. You cast me out when I came to you, remember?” 

“Then I suppose it was Hyde who didn’t want to lose you. He had you. More than once.” Now he was on edge, his hands on his cane tensed, and anger crept in and made him clench his jaw. He spoke through his teeth, and Belle’s breathing became shallow. The muscles in her forearms tingled. He was on the verge of turning, and she longed for Hyde to emerge. But Jekyll reigned in his anger. He pushed back the chair, brought more distance between himself and the bed. At last he nudged the box with his cane towards her, and it bumped against her hip. 

“Just open it”, he growled. 

Belle took the box and set it on her lap. Something inside it moved, and she opened the lid very careful. She didn’t put it past Hyde to give her something like a big rat, because he thought it funny. But it was not a rat. It was a rather fuzzy ball of fur with incredibly big green eyes. 

“It’s a kitten”, she said, a bit breathless.

“More like a folly.” He sounded miffed, and Belle flashed a reproving look at him.

“Where did you get it?” she asked. She stroked over the soft fur, and the cat purred and put its paws on the rim of the box.

“I wonder that myself. I’m a little bit worried that he might have stolen it from some poor little girl.”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Though, a few moments ago she had suspected Hyde of presenting her with a rat. 

“That’s exactly what he would do.”

The cat hopped out of the box, down from the bed and vanished under it. 

“Why did you let her go? She’ll never come out again!” Jekyll bent down and tried to look under the bed.

“You can’t expect her to be let out and be happy about being here!” 

“Why not? It’s a nice home. You are nice.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t know that!” Belle shook her head. “She has no reason to trust me.” 

He stared at her, silent for a moment, before he stepped to the bed and sat down beside her on the mattress. Belle was surprised by his sudden nearness, after all the effort he had put into keeping as much distance between them as possible. 

“Are we still talking about cats?” he asked. 

“What do you think? Why should Sissy feel any different than I?”

“Sissy?” 

Why was he suddenly so close? Belle trembled, unable to breathe properly. “She looks like one, don’t you think?” 

“I didn’t see her that long. She vanished before I could decide how she looks.”

“You’re a slow thinker.” It was only a whisper, because he leaned towards her, and Belle feared he might pull back if she spoke too loud, or exhaled.

“I am. And I’m prone to making mistakes.” He poised only a hand’s width away from her face, from her prickling lips, and Belle stared at his lips. They drew her to him, closer, and she leaned in to meet them, when the door crashed open and Ruby bolted into the room. Jekyll shied away from her.

“The police is here. They have a witness for the last murder, and he says he saw you, Jekyll!” 

“But that’s impossible!” Belle stared at her friend, and she couldn’t believe what Ruby was saying. She had already told the police that neither Jekyll nor Hyde had anything to do with those crimes. 

Jekyll was calm. Why was he so calm?

“Who is that witness?” 

Ruby looked from him to Belle and back. “It’s Mr. Jefferson.”


	23. Twenty three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm aware of historical discrepancies, but this is fanfiction, so I'm taking liberties and do as I please :D. Slight gore in this chapter.

As soon as Jekyll was out of the door, Belle threw the sheets away and slipped out of bed. She swayed and had to grab the bedpost so she didn’t fall, but she gritted her teeth and stayed on her feet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Ruby asked.

“Help me dress, please?” Belle looked around. She didn’t even know if she had something to dress. Ruby found her last dress in a trunk at the end of the bed, out of Belle’s sight. She didn’t bother with the corset, because it would take too much time to lace her up, and she wanted to follow Jekyll, wanted to yell at those Constables, wanted to hammer the truth in their tiny, uncomprehending minds. But she was weak, and Ruby had to support her so she didn’t falter and fall down.

“Belle, you should stay in bed. You’re too weak to be up and about…”

“I don’t care! He didn’t do this, and I have no idea why Jefferson says he did…” She blushed over the sharpness in her tone. But Ruby just shrugged. 

“I guess I can’t keep you here anyway. Not unless Jekyll lends me some shackles out of his dungeon.” 

“He doesn’t have a dungeon!” 

Ruby cocked her head, and her smile had too much teeth in it. “Are you sure about that?”

Belle didn’t answer. It was something she didn’t want to think about, but now that Ruby had planted the picture in her mind…Perhaps he had one. To tie Hyde up, probably. 

“Help me down the stairs, will you?” She extended her arm, and Ruby grabbed it, but the frown didn’t leave her face when she supported Belle on her way down the stairs. Voices rang through the hall, and Belle recognized Jekyll talking. Ruby forced her to stop when she wanted to enter the salon. She laid one long finger over her lips and motioned for Belle to be still.

“That’s a rather moving story, I admit, but I still don’t understand why you’re paying any attention to the words of an opium eater, when it was clearly stated earlier that I had nothing to do with those murders.” 

Belle shivered. Jekyll’s voice could have cut through ice, and each word was as carefully sharpened as a scalpel. She remembered the last time she had seen Jefferson. The white gleaming in his eyes. His odd behavior. 

“Well, technically you have only an alibi for one of the murders. You could have easily committed the other two.” That was Graham. His voice was as calm as ever, but Belle was shocked nevertheless. She had stripped down to her soul before him, and it was still not enough to make him believe in her words. Ruby’s grip on her arm tightened to keep her from storming into the salon. There was another voice, another man, and his words made Belle’s insides freeze over. 

“And your witness is not reliable. The word of a strumpet that spent the night with two men at once, men to neither of whom she is married, has no value.” 

There was a short silence. Then Jekyll spoke again, and his tone was even colder now.

“Mr. Spencer, that sounded as if you’re saying that the word of an opium eater weighs more than that of a respectable young woman who only admitted to have spent the night with me and my friend Mr. Hyde. She never said anything about any activities taking place, as far as I’m informed.”

“Well, it does. Mr. Jefferson is a respectable gentleman whose leisure activities have no influence on the value of his statements…”

“But those of a woman do. I see.” Belle was stunned by the disgust that dripped in Jekyll’s voice. It made her skin tingle, because he was scolding the other man on her behalf. Without even knowing that she witnessed it. Ruby raised her brows, and she mouthed “I told you so”. 

“Why are you so intent on identifying me as your culprit?” 

It was Graham that answered Jekyll’s question. “We’re just looking into every lead. And the Ripper could be someone with surgical knowledge. He removed some organs from the last victim.”

“And I’m a doctor. I see, you have some very strong evidence there. Have you interrogated every other doctor in London, too? And what about the barbers and butchers? Any of them could be your Ripper. And to be honest, it’s not that hard to remove some organs after you opened up the carcass. As far as I know, your Ripper is not that finicky with that knife of his.”

Belle stifled a gasp. 

“So you admit to have some inside knowledge about the murders.” That was that other man again, Spencer.

“I read the papers. You should try reading some time, it broadens the mind immensely.” 

At that the other man grunted, and Belle could almost see him charge at Jekyll, like a wild boar. Why was Jekyll so haughty, so dismissive? It didn’t help to provoke the authorities, or worse, to mock them. He did both. She heard some shuffling, then Graham spoke again, still calm. Too calm. She didn’t trust Graham anymore. 

“Well, thank you for your time, Dr. Jekyll. It’d be best if you stay put and don’t go anywhere over the next few days. We may come back with some more questions.” 

“I haven’t planned any vacations yet.” 

Ruby tugged at Belle’s sleeve and dragged her away from the door to the salon, and they slipped into the dining room so they wouldn’t be seen. They heard steps in the hall, and Ruby peeked through a tiny gap in the door. 

“They’re gone”, she whispered. Then she watched Belle as if she tried to decide if she was going to faint or not. “Are you good?” 

Belle nodded. She was not, but she didn’t want to worry Ruby.

“Then is it alright if I hop out and talk to Graham for a spell?” 

“Sure, go ahead.” Ruby slipped out of the door and Belle was almost glad for it. She didn’t want to talk with Ruby about what they had heard. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. The realization that she had ruined her life more thoroughly than she had anticipated was only slowly sinking in. By trying to shield Jekyll from false accusations, she had turned herself into “that strumpet”. She wasn’t even a person anymore. Her sides stitched, and she had to bent forward to be able to breathe. Her knees were trembling, and her mind was blank. When she slid out the door of the dining room to go back into her room, she saw Jekyll at the entrance door. He didn’t see her, and something prevented her from calling him. Perhaps it was the icy cold on his face, the way he put on his black kid gloves, methodical and controlled, that kept her from going near him. But when he took his cane, looking briefly at it as if he assessed its strength, and left with constricted strides, she decided to follow him. 

Ruby and Graham were slowly walking away from the house, and Belle saw how Jekyll cast a glance at their backs before he walked in the opposite direction. The other Constable was nowhere to be seen. Not until Jekyll vanished around a corner did she step out of the house and follow him. Her legs were still wobbly, and for a moment she wondered if this was a good idea. Of course it wasn’t, but still, she had to know. There had been something in his demeanor that had scared her. 

She had to walk faster as her legs wanted to allow so she didn’t lose sight of him. Only because he himself was restricted by his leg and his need of a cane, she managed to stay close enough. He was easy to distinguish, and even when he sometimes melted into a crowd of similarly clad gentlemen, specks of dark colors that crowded the streets, her eyes were fixes on his figure, his slightly too long hair, his limp that made him easy to spot. But he descended into the more doubtful areas of the city, where the streets were narrow and the houses were crammed closely together. Belle had to support herself by putting a hand to the walls that lined the alleys. A few times someone called something after her, but she paid no mind. 

Finally Jekyll descended down some stairs to a shady cellar. Steam and smoke hung in the alley, and the stench of something that made her nauseous. Belle hid away in a gap between looming houses on the opposite side of the street, and waited for him to come out again. Carts rattled by, and again someone shouted something at her, some rude obscenity, but when she turned to look at the man he shied away, cursing under his breath, and Belle thought she heard him say something like “fucking corpses everywhere”. She took it as a sign that she still looked ill. 

It took some time until Jekyll emerged back on the street, and he halted on top of the steps and wiped his cane with a handkerchief from his pocket. When he tucked it away, the white cloth was red with blood. Belle gasped, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hands and retreated into the shadows between the houses. It was loud on the street, crowded, but she still was afraid he could have heard her. And he had, because his head spun around, and his eyes found her, pierced through her and pinned her to the wall in her back, unable to move. She watched as he slowly advanced, unable to breathe, to think. His gaze didn’t let go of her, and his tension oscillated around him like hot air on a summer day. When he was only a few steps away, she retreated further into the shadows, into the narrow alley just wide enough for a bulky man. He followed her, the only sound he made the tapping of his cane on the cobbles. Finally he had her cornered, and her back collided with a wall. Jekyll came to a halt, much too close for her to feel comfortable. He planted his cane in a way that blocked her escape way, giving her no other choice but to face him. 

“What are you doing here?” His voice was strained, so low it was barely audible. Belle squared her shoulders and met his stare, unblinking. 

“I followed you. What did you do in there?” 

He was silent for a moment. Then he lifted his cane, turned it in his hand and bared his teeth in a smile that sent a cold prickle down her spine. “I…made some inquiries.” 

“What kind of inquiries?”

He put the cane back to the ground and stepped even closer. Belle’s breathing became shallow. She feared to touch him if she inhaled to deeply, feared a touch might make him – or her - snap. Until now she had only ever seen this tension about him when he was Hyde. Never before as Jekyll, and it scared her. 

“Are you afraid of me, sweetheart?” 

Belle gulped, tried to get rid of the lump in her throat. He had asked her before if she was afraid of him. But never in this tone. Never with this dangerous edge in his voice. 

“I am”, she said, and he cocked his head and blinked. 

“You’re seeing the monster now. Not a pretty sight, is it?” He lifted his hand and caught a strand of her hair. Without touching her skin, he began to twist it around his fingers. 

“Which monster are you? The cruel and ruthless kind or the one that hurts what he loves?” Belle was glad her voice didn’t quaver. Jekyll wrinkled his nose, and a smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. 

“You’re so very brave. Always facing your fear.” He brushed over her lip with the strand of her hair, then he tucked it behind her ear. She felt his fingertips grazing her scalp before he withdrew his hand and stepped back. “Come. I take you home. You’re still sick.” 

“Your home or my home?” She didn’t move. Watched him as his tongue flicked over his lip, as he bit down on his bottom lip for the briefest moment. 

“I understand that you’re still afraid I’d send you away.”

“Of course I am. You said so yourself, only this morning.” 

“Well, that was before…Now I know how much I owe you. How much you sacrificed for me.”

Belle was silent for a moment. So he had finally changed his mind. Too bad she had changed hers, too.

“I don’t want you to take me in because you feel obligated to do so. I’m not a mistress. Not even yours.”

“I didn’t say I want you to be my mistress.” He clenched his jaw, and she could see the muscles straining in his neck. He had to work hard to remain in control of his anger.

“And what about Hyde? You didn’t want me in your house because you’re afraid of him. Of becoming him.” Now she stepped closer, leaving barely enough space between them to breathe. “But you have him under control now, haven’t you? You were in that house there and beat someone with your cane, and you didn’t turn.” She looked down at his hand that was clenched around the handle of his cane. He tensed even more under her gaze. She discovered a tiny drop of blood on his coat, and another one on his collar. When her eyes finally reached his face, he was breathing heavily. 

“Do you think you’d be able to kiss me, to touch me, without turning?” Her voice was hoarse, a growl deep in her throat, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. His nostrils flared, and she knew he had gotten her scent. He bared his teeth, snarling in his attempt to keep his other half at bay, but Belle could see Hyde raging inside him, under his surface. She cupped his cheek, lightly, barely touching him, and trailed the line of his jaw with her fingertips. 

“I’ll go with you. If you manage not to turn.” She leaned in and pressed her lips on his, and she felt him shiver. He broke away, his breathing unsteady, jerky.

“I was under the impression you rather like Hyde.” He managed to sound unaffected, but his trembling lips betrayed him.

“I do. But I don’t want you to hate me because you can’t control him when I’m around. Do you think you can do that? Control him?”

He hesitated. His struggle was palpable, and Belle almost backed away to give him space. Almost. 

“Yes”, he said finally, through clenched teeth.

“Then prove it. Kiss me.” 

She held her breath. Where did this madness come from? Only minutes before she had been afraid. But when his tongue flicked over his lips, and he bent down to kiss her, she pushed away her doubts. His lips brushed over hers, only a short moment, then he straightened and stepped away, and Belle snorted through her nose, a shocking and unladylike sound.

“That’s all? I’m afraid that’s not very convincing. You have to do more.” 

Jekyll stared at her, tense, hesitating. Then he lunged at her, rammed her against the wall in her back, pressed himself to her and drained her from every last breath with his kiss, his lips, teeth, tongue, buried his hands in her hair, keeping her in place, until she bit down on his lip to keep him from smothering her. He tore away, blood on his lip, but it was still Jekyll who looked at her, who traced her neck with his fingertips, who started to unbutton the front of her dress. Belle dug her fingers into his shoulders, held on to him to keep herself from slipping to the ground. Her knees turned into liquid. He nipped at her neck, her throat, while he shoved aside the fabric of her dress, so he could lick over her collarbones. It was not that big a difference between his touch and Hyde’s, Belle observed, but every thought failed her when he wriggled his hands into her dress and cupped her breasts, held them, circled their tips. She moaned when he pinched them, gently at first, but with increasing pressure. He grazed her jaw with his teeth, and she shuddered, because Hyde had done the same thing. His hands slipped back to her neck, cradled her jaw, and again he pressed his lips on hers, warm and wet. Then he tore himself away, panting, with a wet plopping sound. 

“Enough?” he croaked, and Belle chuckled, a burbling sound at the back of her throat.

“No. We’re not finished.” She grabbed the waistband of his pants and yanked him closer. When she started to unbutton his trousers, his head fell back, exposed his throat, and he groaned between clenched teeth.

“Belle, please, don’t…”

“I want to see you, feel  you in me. You.” When she closed her hand around his erection, he gasped, jerked against her hand, and she saw flashes of Hyde flitting over his face.

“Don’t you dare turn on me, Jekyll. I want you.” Her voice was husky, nearly broken, and she felt him strain, struggling to stay who he was. He grabbed her waist, started to pull up her skirts and shoved his knee between her legs to keep those endless layers of fabric up. Her breath hitched in her throat when he slid his palms over her pelvic bones, over her groins, and her nerve endings responded and made her flinch. He cupped her sex, gentle, and she felt her wetness seep through the fabric of her drawers. She let go of his member, clung to his shoulders, and he stilled, forehead resting against her neck. Belle rubbed his back, his shoulder blades, the nape of his neck, the back of his head, felt the tension vibrating through him. 

“Stay with me, Henry. Please, stay with me.” She whispered it again and again, planted tiny kisses on his hair and his temple, and the rhythm of their breathing aligned itself until it was only one rhythm. 

“I can’t do this to you here, on the street. It’s not right.” His breath brushed the naked skin above her collarbones, his words like the whispering of dragonfly wings. Belle arched her back, thrust her hips against him, against his hand that was still on her sex. She heard him swallow, and she cupped his cheeks and made him look at her. 

“I want you to do this. Right here. Now.” She looked over his shoulder. The alley was still deserted, empty, a secluded dead end between two houses. “No one will see us.”” 

He shivered under her touch and pressed his lips to her skin, open-mouthed and hot, scorching her, and his hand between her legs moved, tenderly. Then she heard a rasping sound when he grabbed her drawers and ripped them open. He swallowed her gasp with his kiss, grasped her buttocks and shoved her up the wall.

“Wrap your legs around me, sweetheart” he murmured, and Belle did. He lowered her down on his erection, entering her slowly and controlled, but still she saw flashes of yellow rippling over his skin.

“Stay with me. Don’t you dare to turn. Don’t…” 

He began to move, holding her up and pinning her against the wall, and every word was ripped from her lips and turned into moans and sighs and little cries of pleasure and pain when he bit the crook of her neck, and spilled himself inside her.

She still moaned and rubbed herself against him when he let her slide down to the ground. He planted kisses on her neck where he’d bitten her, but it left her empty and unsatisfied. 

“I’m sorry, dear” he said, and Belle almost sobbed. She needed more, needed to get that last bit that had been almost there, almost within reach. Jekyll caressed her cheek, let his fingertips glide along her brow, her temple, over her lips, but the tickling only made it worse. 

“Finish it”, she said, and he curved his lips into a smile. He almost looked like Hyde then, full of mischief and awful glee.

“Shall I?” he asked with a chuckle. 

“Don’t turn.” 

The smile vanished and was replaced by a sharp look on his face, like a hawk scowling at his falconer. “As you wish”, he said, before he awkwardly got down to his knees and pulled up her skirts again, thrusting them at her. He lifted her right leg and placed it on his shoulder to gain better access to her core, and Belle felt the stubble on his jaw graze her inner thigh. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she felt it, oh, she felt it. Her nails dug into the stones of the wall that held her upright as his tongue slid between her folds, sapping at her wetness, and he kissed and sucked at her thighs and at her core and that point where all her nerves ended in bliss, until she came undone with one last, hoarse cry. 

He wiped his face with her underskirt before he gingerly put her leg down from his shoulder and rose, stiff and hissing in pain. Belle tugged at his shirt to pull him closer, and when he leaned to her and bent down his head, she kissed him.

“Yes, I’ll go with you”, she said. 

“It’s forever, dearie”, he said, and the eerie likeness of his words to those that Hyde had said sent a jolt through her bones.

She hoped she wouldn’t regret her decision. 


	24. Twenty four

She didn’t know how she managed to get home. Jekyll called them a hackney, and when they arrived at his house, Ruby met them in the hall, slightly panicked because of Belle’s disappearance. She rushed towards her, her arms wide and ready to capture Belle in a fierce hug, but she came to a halt a few paces away and stared at Belle. Ruby shifted from one foot to the other and sniffed, and her face crinkled in confusion. 

Shame surged through Belle. Ruby could smell it. The scent of their encounter clung to them, to their skin, their clothes. Belle had smelled it, too, and though it was not repelling to her senses, it was rather blatant, and any notion of hiding it would be fruitless.

“So you found one another. No need for me to be worried, huh?” For all the encouragement she had shown before, Ruby sounded rather miffed now. 

“How could you be so irresponsible as to let her wander the streets in her condition?” 

“Henry!” Belle was shocked at his reproaching tone. It was not as if Ruby had known what she was up to. And he was certainly the last person entitled to scold anyone. 

Ruby looked from Belle to Jekyll and raised her brows. She made a face as if she yearned to be somewhere else, preferably with at least one ocean between her and the two of them. “I guess I should go then…It looks like you overcame your fear of taking advantage of poor Belle and her state.” 

Jekyll snarled at Ruby, but he was wise enough not to make a move. Not only that Belle would not tolerate it, moreover, she was sure that Ruby was capable of tearing his throat out if he tried to act on the anger that seethed under his skin. His vexation came as a surprise to Belle, and she was not entirely sure at whom it was directed. Or where it came from. 

“Have a nice day, Dr. Jekyll.” Ruby curtsied, but it was a clumsy and mocking gesture. Then she glanced at Belle, shortly and with so much sympathy that Belle’s cheeks grew warm. She still was contemplating Ruby’s strange behavior when Jekyll tucked her in and sat down on the edge of her bed. He had helped her to change back from her dress into the nightgown, but his touch had been impersonal, light, so distant that Belle couldn’t help but compare it to the way Hyde had touched her. She was confused by their distinctness. Somehow she had thought, although they were different in their demeanor, their appearance, their voice, that they still were the same at their core. Now she was not so sure anymore. It was as if she had done…it… with two different individuals. But she did not only see their disparity clearer now. They had things in common, too. Their bad temper, for one. Jekyll was only more restrained, composed. But his attempt of ridding himself of his demons had not divided him into two opposite personas. There was good and bad in either of them. 

“Are you going to stay with me while I sleep?” she asked, and she laid her hand on his and laced her fingers with his. They were cool, his skin smooth, and she missed the feel of Hyde’s rough skin on hers. There were many things she missed about Hyde. But it would be cruel and egoistical to lure him out only for her own sake. Jekyll wouldn’t forgive her if she did something like that.

“If you want me to, I’ll stay. I’ll make myself comfortable on the chair.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s room for two in the bed.”

“Belle…”

“Are you afraid of turning in your sleep?”

He looked down at their clasped hands for a moment, and his jaw twitched.

“Yes and no. You see, he’s…complicated. But he’s also different with you. And the closer I get to you, the more I want to allow him to…come out.” His words came slow, each one a struggle, and Belle was not sure if she understood. He saw her confusion and sighed. 

“Sweetheart, you make me want to be…whole again. One. You make me want to go back to the best version of me. Before I split myself into two monsters.”

“Do you think there is a chance of getting whole again?” 

He smiled sadly. “No.” 

Belle bit her lip and pondered this for a moment. “So you think you’re going to be two men for the rest of your life?” 

“I’m sure of it.” 

“Then you should start to accept it.” Belle blinked. Her body beneath the sheets was heavy, exhausted, and it was almost impossible to keep her eyes open. But she didn’t want to go to sleep before she was sure he’d stay with her. “Come to bed, please, and hold me?” 

He still hesitated. She tugged at his hand, pulling him closer. “It’s going to be alright.” 

Jekyll inhaled, and slowly, without letting his breath out, he stretched himself out at her side. Only when he lay at her side, holding her in his arms, she felt him exhale and his breath wafted warm over her neck. 

“Are you not taking off your clothes?” she asked. The buttons of his shirt pressed into her back as he snuggled closer, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for this. 

“No. Not this time. Just sleep, sweetheart.” 

Belle closed her eyes. She didn’t want to press him into doing something he didn’t want to do. His breathing was steady, soothing, and his warmth enveloped her, but when her mind started to blank, to drift off, the image of him wiping his cane, cleaning off the blood, flashed through it, and she winced. 

“Who did you…interrogate?” 

He tensed, and his fingers on her waist dug in her skin for a moment, almost hurting her. “What do you think?”

“Jefferson? You know, I saw him, too, the night the first woman was killed.”

“Well, I don’t think he had anything to do with it. His mind is a bit scrambled.” 

“But why should he claim that he saw you?”

“He was instructed to do so.” His breath tickled her ear, and she felt him nuzzle the nape of her neck. It send a shiver down her spine. But the tone of his voice indicated that he didn’t wish to discuss the matter any further. Normally Belle wouldn’t let that stop her, but she was too tired, too warm, too heavy, and she felt like slowly sinking down to the bottom of a deep blue pond. Still, there was something nagging at her, something important, and she didn’t want to forget. 

“What happened to your son?” It was difficult grasping the words, and they were slurred and thick on her tongue. 

“I lost him. I’ll tell you another time, sweetheart.” 

This was enough for Belle, and she finally allowed herself to sleep. 

***

A strange sound yanked her out of her dreams, and it took her a moment to recognize the high pitched sound as a giggle.

“Oh, you’re such a naughty kitten. This is good, isn’t it?” 

Belle didn’t open her eyes. She tried to feel her limbs, tried to find out if he was touching her, because his voice alone left her tingling, but there was nothing but the sheets wrapped around her. She turned towards his voice, appreciating that it felt much less painful then the day before. There was another sound, purring, and Belle remembered the cat. She had completely forgotten the kitten Hyde had given her. She opened her eyes, only a narrow slit to peep at him. 

Hyde was sprawled on the chair beside her bed, and he was scratching and stroking the cat that was on his lap and trembled with excitement over his attention. Belle’s breath hitched in her throat as she watched his slender hands gliding through the fur, ruffling it behind the cat’s ears and under its chin. Sissy showed a ridiculous amount of pleasure, stretching and purring, and for a moment, Belle wished to be the cat on his lap. She must have made a sound, because all of a sudden he shoved the cat from his lap and hopped onto the bed, all in one swift movement, and the mattress caved in under his weight. Sissy screeched in indignation, but Belle had no time to pay her any mind, because Hyde pressed his lips to hers and kissed her hard and deep. 

“Morning, dearie. Glad to see me back?”, he asked after letting go of her lips with a wet and plopping sound. 

“Um…when…?” Belle felt breathless and dizzy from his kiss, and she had difficulties to pose her question. 

“Oh, Jekyll left in the early morning. Was about time.” 

“Goodness. He’s not going to like that.” 

Hyde grabbed her chin, not rough but not particularly gentle either. “Miss him?” 

Belle swallowed. His touch sent a trickle over her skin, down to her core. Before she could summon the words to answer him, there was a knock at the door and Hyde leapt from the bed and ducked behind it, so he wouldn’t be seen from the door. That was strange. 

“What are you doing?”

His head showed up over the edge of her bed, and he looked at her as if she had asked the world’s most stupid question. “Dearie, I’m hiding. I don’t think anyone would be particularly happy to see me in your bedroom. Now answer, please.” And he dived out of sight again.

It was Hopper who brought her tea and something to eat on a tray.

“Dr. Jekyll ordered this earlier. He said you’re much better now and would appreciate something to strengthen your health.” 

Belle realized that she really was starving. Hopper set the tray on her little bedside table, and the aroma of toasted bread, whipped cream and fruit made her stomach cramp and twist. 

“It’s only a simple meal, and he said we shouldn’t make you eggs, they’d be too strong.” 

Belle had to admit that this was very considerate of Jekyll. The thought of boiled eggs alone made her want to retch. But the smell of whipped cream, mingled with the sour sweet and juicy aroma of plums cut in halves and pitted was almost too much to bear, too. She couldn’t remember if she had ever smelled something so delicious before. 

Hopper cleared his throat, and Belle blushed when she realized that her craving to bury her teeth in those plums had probably shown on her face. 

“Thank you”, she croaked, and Hopper nodded. As soon as he was out of the door, Hyde hopped onto the bed again, straddling her, and snatched the bowl with fruit out of her hands. A whining sound slipped over her lips, and she tried to catch his hands. 

“Hungry, dearie? You look ravenous.” He balanced the bowl slightly out of her reach, and for a moment she hated him. She wanted those plums as badly as she had wanted him the last time they met. He fished a plum out of the bowl and held it in front of her face, close enough for the smell to tickle her palate and make her crave for it even more. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and tugged, tried to pull him closer, but he resisted and grinned.

“No, not ravenous. Wolfish.” He touched the plum in his fingers to her lips, and she buried her teeth in it before he could take it away again. She almost caught his finger, too, and he chided her by puckering his lips.

“Tut tut. Careful, dearie. I need those.”

“Well, I’m hungry. You can play later. Go scratch that cat you brought me.” 

He giggled and ate the rest of the plum. Belle followed a drop of juice that trickled down his fingers with her eyes, and when he licked it off his skin, she swallowed. It was almost hypnotizing, and only when he raised his eyebrows and grinned, she remembered to eat. He hopped from the bed and sprawled on the chair once again, and his gaze didn’t leave her. Ignoring the bread, she dipped the halve of a plum into whipped cream. The taste flooded her senses and made her mouth water and her insides clench. It worried her. Her senses were heightened. Her sense of smell, her taste, her hunger…everything was more sensitive, more…there. While she licked cream off another plum, always watching Hyde out of the corner of her eyes, she tried to remember when this had started. Was it after Ruby had scratched her, or after she had given in to Hyde? 

“Sated, dearie?” Of course he had noticed when she stopped eating. 

“I think I’m not hungry anymore…” And she wasn’t. The idea that all this was a symptom of her turning had spoiled her appetite. Somehow he felt the change in her mood, the dread that had suddenly crept in, and he left the chair and sat down on the bed, at her side. He took the bowl with fruit from her hands once more.

“You know, it’s not so bad to be what we are. To take what we want. To sate our cravings. To feel the way we feel.” His words were enticing, but Belle was afraid to believe him. 

“But what if I turn and…kill someone? Make others like me?”

“Then it’s just what it is. Don’t be afraid of yourself.” 

Belle looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. She had been brave when it meant to face a beast. When it meant to face him, or Ruby. Facing herself was something else entirely. She was not ready for that. 

“Let me help you, dearie. You have to eat.” He held another plum before her, waiting for her permission to feed her with it. She wanted to deny him, wanted to point out that she wasn’t hungry, and if she was, she could eat by herself just fine. But there was a pleading look in his eyes, a longing that hit her nerves and made her tingle. She opened her mouth, hesitating, and her lips prickled when he traced them with the fruit before he let her take a bite. The taste of plum prickled on her tongue, and juices squirted out of the plum flesh and dripped on her chin, but when she raised her hand to wipe it away, he captured her arm. 

“Don’t.” His voice was hoarse, and he stared mesmerized at her skin. “Let me clean you, please?” 

Belle nodded slowly. He trembled, eyes fixed on the trickling juices on her skin. He wanted this so badly. And she wanted it, too, wanted to feel him close, wanted to grant him joy, to revel in it. So she tilted her head back, exposed her throat, felt the sticky juice dribble slowly down. He bent his head, leaned closer, licked the stickiness away. His tongue was warm and wet on her skin, on her throat and her chin, the corner of her mouth, her lips, and when he kissed her, it tasted like plums. Their breathing was ragged and heavy when he drew back, and Belle’s hunger awoke again, more fiercely, only this time it was him she craved for. She struggled to sit up straight, to kiss him again, and she clawed at his shirt and ripped it open to feel his skin, feel him.

“Slowly, sweetheart. I want to strengthen you, not wear you out.” He chuckled, and Belle let out a growl. Again he brushed her lips with the remnants of the fruit, and its flavor stuck to her lips and overwhelmed her once more.

“I’m not hungry for food.” But still she let him feed her the last bit of the plum, and she licked the juices from his fingers, tasting the sweetness of fruit and the salt of his skin. 

“Want some more, dearie?” He was teasing her, tracing her collarbone through the fabric of her nightgown with his sticky fingers. She shivered when his fingertips wandered down her sternum, between her breasts, and all of a sudden every piece of clothing between them was too much.

“Yes”, she said, and when he leaned away to pick another plum out of the bowl, she tore her nightgown over her head and scrambled to her knees. 

“Adventurous, dearie?” He devoured her with his eyes, and Belle basked in his gaze. It was this she missed more than anything in Jekyll, the courage to look at her, see her, and in turn let her see him. When he touched the plum to the tip of her breast, she gasped, because it was cold, and wet, but when he licked over the trace he left on her skin, her breath caught and her chest tingled with the sensation. But when he wanted to feed the fruit to her, she wrenched it out of his grip, pushed him down on his back and smeared its flesh over his chest. She was unable to contain her craving for him any longer, unable to be anything other than beastly in her need to take him. She followed the sweet trail she left with her lips and tongue and teeth, and the scent of him, the taste of his skin mixed with plum made her dizzy. When she bit his shoulder, he hissed. She licked and bit up to his throat, and she couldn’t keep herself from leaving marks on his skin, making him hers, and she sucked on every mark she left until he winced in pain. But when she buried her teeth in his jaw, he grabbed her hair and yanked her away from his skin. 

“Careful, precious.” 

Belle trembled. There was something in his eyes that washed over her like ice water. His fist in her hair clenched, pulling at her scalp and hurting her. There was a fight in him, and more of Jekyll than she ever saw in Hyde, as if the one was fighting to overpower the other, consume him, extinguish the other, and above all there was fear. She could smell it. It seeped through his pores, formed a light coat of sweat on his skin, and it invaded her senses and made her numb. He was afraid of  her . How could Hyde be afraid of anything, most of all, afraid of her?

“Let go of me”, she whispered, and he did as if her hair was aflame, burned him. Belle sat back on her heels, stared at him and tried to comprehend what had happened. “Please, Edward, what’s wrong?” 

“I’m not sure.” He shivered, and when Belle reached out to touch him, comfort him, to bridge the distance that was suddenly between them, he shrank back. This hurt more than she could have imagined. And she didn’t understand. By the looks of it, he didn’t either.

“This is not my doing”, he rasped, and his trembling grew even stronger. She could see the change rippling over him, patches of his skin shifting from scaly yellow to his more human skin tone, but it was not like the other times she had witnessed his change. It was more violent this time, and Hyde dug his nails into the bed sheets and tried to fight it. Belle could only watch, helpless, horrified. She saw the moment he lost the fight, saw his eyes change, and she wanted to hold on to him, wanted him to stay, wanted to wrap herself around him and never let go. But when she grabbed his shoulders, it was Jekyll who looked at her. Looked at her in a way that turned her upside down, took her apart and pieced her back together all wrong and twisted. She wanted to shout, to demand Hyde back, but at the same time she wanted Jekyll to hold her and comfort her and say that everything was going to be alright. This was madness. How had she come to believe this could ever work, ever be anything other than raving madness… 

Darkness was closing in on her, tearing at the edges of her sanity, gnawing at every nerve ending, and for one moment she felt like the fever had seized her again, jolted through her bones and peeled her skin from her flesh. Then he said something, and his voice was muffled by a foggy distance.

“Belle, you’re turning…”

And everything went blank.


	25. Twenty five

A slow dribble of water was the first thing that came through to her. It was dark, damp and cold, and she was not sure where she was. Or who. Every single one of her bones hurt, as if it had been broken, picked apart and reassembled all wrong. 

Drop after drop fell with a faint  pling down onto the stones.

She was thirsty, and she tried to move her head to where the sound of falling droplets came from. The air was filled with a green smell, mossy, cold, like wet granite. The soft trickle somewhere to her right smelled as if there was something rotting in it, molding. But her thirst was burning her from inside, and she tried to get to all fours, to drag herself to the water. All she cared about was to still her thirst, make the burning stop, and if she had to lick the slimy liquid drop after drop from the stones.

“Belle.”

She flinched. Belle. That was her. Or had been, once upon a time. Someone came, grasped her elbow, helped her to sit up and lean against a stone wall. Jekyll. He smelled sweet. Coppery. Drenched in blood. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness, and she could make out his form. 

“What happened?” She managed only a whisper, and her gums felt as if covered in pelt and glued to her tongue. 

“You remember nothing?” 

She shook her head before she remembered that he probably couldn’t see it in the dark. “No”, she croaked. 

Soft fingers brushed her cheek, her chin, and she winced. Her face hurt, as if it had been cut into stripes. 

“Shh, sweetheart. It’ll be alright. You turned into a wolf.”

He was lying. He had to be lying. She didn’t remember anything. Certainly she would remember turning into an animal. She had to. 

“Where am I?” 

Heat crept into his skin. She could smell it, a faint change in the air around him, salty and moist. Why could she smell heat? 

“Um…this is my…dungeon…” 

“Your what?” 

“Um.” He sounded helpless, but he better had a damn good explanation, or she would rip his head right off of his shoulders.

“Why am I in a dungeon? Why do you have a dungeon?”

“You turned into a wolf. Was I supposed to let you go out on a killing spree?”

“Why do you have a dungeon?” She wanted to grab him, shake him, but her hands were too heavy, and something rattled as she moved. Clinked. “Did you shackle me?””

“Um.” 

“Stop um-ing at me.”

“Well, I had to. You could say we had our first fight.” There was definitely a defensive tone in his voice.

“And you shackled me?” 

“Well, was I supposed to let you kill me?”

“How did you even get me here?” The iron on her limbs clanked. There were shackles on her feet as well. Oh my, he was going to pay for this.

“I didn’t. Hyde did.”

“But Hyde wasn’t there. You ripped him away from me.” She remembered this. As clear as if it had happened only an instant before, she saw Hyde retreat, saw him sucked away, beaten down by Jekyll.

“I tried to keep you safe. Make you aware of what was happening.” 

“Why are you covered in blood?” Belle was dizzy, and she didn’t know if it was the overwhelming stench of blood and foul water that made her feel so, or her thirst. She almost didn’t hear Jekyll’s answer.

“Not mine”, he mumbled.

“What does that mean?” 

“It’s not my blood. I’m not hurt.”

“Why…”

Jekyll interrupted her, and he sounded impatient and waspish. “Belle, you don’t want to know, believe me. Now, you need to drink something.”

He held something to her lips, and she drank eagerly, thankful that she didn’t have to drink the foul water that trickled down the walls.

“Can you take these off?” she asked when the worst of her thirst was stilled. She extended her hands, and the chains that fastened her to the walls rattled and clinked. All she wanted now was to leave this place.

“I’ll take them off, but we have to stay here.” 

She rubbed her wrists after he took the chains off. They had been tight, and she wondered how he had managed to chain her up in the first place, if she really had been a wolf.

“Why do we need to stay?” she asked. He hesitated, and his words came slow when he answered.

“I’m sorry, Belle, but you could turn again. It’s not even the full moon, and you turned in broad daylight. It may well be that it happens again.”

Her throat tightened, and a sob scratched the inside of her ribs. She felt broken, lost. “I hurt. Can you at least hold me?” She sounded like a child, even to her own ears, and she heard him inhale sharply. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” He moved, sat down beside her and pulled her over his lap. When Belle snuggled close to his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart, she hurt a little less. 

“Can you tell me about your son, now?” If she had to stay in this dark and reeking place, she wanted him to talk to her.

“It’s not a nice story, my darling Belle. It’s a story full of pain and loss and betrayal.” 

“Tell me, please.”

He sighed, and his breath moved her hair and tickled her temple. “I was married, once. Had a son. But we weren’t happy. Not really. Perhaps we married too young. I found her wanting, she found me cold. I missed warmth in her, and she didn’t find the man she needed in me. But I honored our marriage, and I thought she did the same.”

He paused, lost in thought, and Belle listened to his heartbeat and waited in silence for him to continue. He inhaled deeply, trembling, and pressed his lips to her hair. “Alas, she didn’t. And I made a terrible mistake.” 

“What happened?” Belle asked, when he didn’t continue. 

“We fought. We fought, and I cast her out. She tried to survive on her own, because I didn’t give her any money. I didn’t let her see our son. She made the wrong decision, trusted the wrong people. I didn’t know at the time, but she began working in a brothel. She was killed there.” 

It was a horrible tale, but all Belle felt was the sadness in him. He had made a mistake, had ruined his wife and in a way caused her demise. And he bitterly regretted it. “What happened then?”

“Someone knew about her affiliation to me. I had to identify her and pay for her burial. But I not only refused to pay for it, I also took my son with me to identify her.”

Belle gasped, and he tensed beneath her. His grip around her tightened, as if he was afraid she’d back away. “But he was only a child! How could you do this?” She tried to understand, tried to see what would have led him to do such a thing to his own child.

“It was folly. I tried to make him see how his mother had chosen a path that led to this, wanted him to see that there was no reason for him to miss her anymore. I wanted him to understand that she was gone. That she wouldn’t come back. I thought it would help him to see the finality of it. Her death.” A bitter laugh escaped him, and Belle flinched in his arms. She felt nauseous.

“Of course, all he saw was my cruelty. I made him see how I was responsible for her death. For his loss. He ran away. When we were back on the street, after we had looked at his dead mother, he wrested himself free from my hand. It was one of those days in spring when the sun actually manages to break through the smoke. You could even hear birds singing, over the noise of carriages and people and horses, there were birds. And he broke free and ran away, vanished in the crowd, and I never saw him again. And all I could think was how it could be that there were birds singing on such a day.”

“Didn’t you look for him?” 

“Of course I did. I dedicated my life to finding him. But I realized along the way that finding him would be of little avail if I still was the same vile man that drove him away in the first place. So I tried to change, to better myself. Only I went about it all wrong, tried to extract the evil in me with a drug. All I achieved was splitting myself in two evils instead of one. I truly became a monster.” 

Belle had to bite back the tears over the hopelessness in his voice. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that everything would be alright, he wasn’t a monster, he’d find his son again, but the truth was that she didn’t know if there was such a thing as hope and happiness for him. Or for her. So she just snuggled closer, tried to crawl into him, wrap herself in his warmth and him in hers. 

“See”, he whispered, “told you it’s not a pretty story.”

“It isn’t. But you changed.”

“Did I? I tried to cast you out, just as I did with my wife.”

“You tried, yes. But in the end, you didn’t. On the contrary, you took me in and caged me up.”

He chuckled. “That’s not necessarily better, sweetheart. Quite the opposite, if you ask me.”

Belle giggled, too, and she felt him shiver when her breath tickled his throat right above his collar. “Well, I trust you’ll let me out again. And you’re doing this only to protect others from me. That’s noble.”

“You have a quirky notion of nobleness, my dear.”

“It’s not quirky to find you noble. There’s good in you, and I see it.” 

He sighed, and Belle huddled up to him even closer. The smell of dried blood tickled in her nose and on her tongue, and it was rough and stiff against her skin where it had dried on his clothes. 

“Whose blood is it?” she asked. He took his time to answer, and he tensed beneath her and tightened his embrace.

“It’s yours.”

“Why is there so much of my blood on you?” Now she was alarmed, despite the safety she had felt in his arms before. 

“I suppose Hyde had to do something to get you down here and chain you up. He may have injured you.” 

“May have? You’re covered in blood!”

“You’re already healed. And it’s not as if you hadn’t already broken every bone in your body just by changing form. Why did you think Ruby was raging each time during the change? “ He sounded defensive again, and Belle felt the need to comfort him. Which was odd, because technically, he had hurt her. 

“So, why do you have a dungeon? And where is it?”

“It’s beneath my house, of course. And it’s more of a cellar than a dungeon, really. But after Hyde appeared for the first time and I became aware of the things he did, I tried to confine him.”

“That didn’t work out, huh?”

Jekyll snorted. “No. He’s a clever bastard, quite adept at lock picking.”

Belle listened to his heartbeat for a while. He raked his fingers through her hair, gently, and she heard him sigh. She felt almost content, wrapped in a silent understanding of each other that went beyond words, but still she was locked up in a dark and reeking place, cradled by a man who was covered in blood. Her blood. Blood that he had spilled. This was so wildly different from what she had her life imagined to be, from what she had read about romance and happiness, that she was not sure if such a skewed and crooked feeling could be love, or if it was a mere and ugly distortion of what she had believed to be love, once. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, and Belle didn’t know how to answer. There had been a time when the answer to his question would have been a simple yes or no, but she honestly couldn’t remember that time. She couldn’t remember the time when it had been easy to be honest with herself. Now it was even painful to look at herself at all, let alone be honest.

“I think I need some light to see the answer to that question.” 

“Soon, sweetheart. Soon.”

But it wasn’t soon. It took another two days until he let them out again, and in that time she changed at least twice. She was not sure about it, though, because at some point everything became a blur, an indistinctive haze of pain and rage. She didn’t know either if he left her when she changed, locked her in her cage, or if he stayed with her as Hyde. She didn’t dare to ask. He told her that she would learn to control it, remember it even, some day, but she didn’t believe him. But in the same measure that she lost control over her body and her mind, he seemed to gain control over his. Not once when she surfaced was he Hyde.

Finally he carried her out of her dungeon, up and into the dusty light of his laboratory, where he laid her down on the settee where he had once lain, when she had come to his house with Jones and Hopper to look after him. It was as if she had spent a century in the dark, and even the light that filtered through colored glass and flitted about her couldn’t dispel the imprints the musty walls of her cell had left on her. He washed her, cleaned away dried blood and dirt, and he handled her naked body gently, held her limbs up with meticulous care, as if they were fragile, while he treated her skin with ointments and liquids that smelled peculiar and stung on her cuts and grazes.

“Where do these come from?” she asked, and Jekyll smiled sadly.

“Every time you turned, you raged and smashed into the walls.” 

“Did I hurt you, too?”

He bent his head, kissed her forehead, and she closed her eyes and tried to hold back her tears. She had no reason to cry, but she did nevertheless. “No, my darling Belle, you didn’t hurt me.” 

He clad her in a soft nightgown and covered her with thick blankets that smelled a bit dusty and sharp. 

“Sweetheart, I have to take care of some things. I’ll send you Hopper to look after you.”

“Will you come back?” She hated to ask, hated to show how vulnerable and small she was.

“Of course, my dear. This is my house. Where should I go?”

It was not exactly the answer she had hoped for, but Belle refrained from further questions. At least it was the truth, even if it was no real answer at all. 


	26. Twenty six

Hopper brought her tea and something to eat on a tray. On the tray, propped up against a small vase with a single flower in it, was a creamy white envelope. 

“It’s from Dr. Whale”, Hopper said when he saw her eying the letter. He handed it to her, but Belle was not sure if she even wanted to read it. She just held it and turned it in her hands. 

“Where did Jekyll go?” she asked, while Hopper poured her tea into a cup and handed her a small plate with pastries. He arranged the porcelain on the tray anew, shuffled it to and fro, while Belle waited for him to answer.

“Dr. Jekyll didn’t inform me about his plans. I know he has to visit Dr. Whale. Other than that, he’s not very forthcoming.” Belle noticed a slight strain in his tone. She wondered if he knew about the dual nature of his employer. 

“Why am I here?” 

Hopper looked up from the tray and eyed her with surprise. “You mean here in this house?”

“No, I meant here. In this room. Why didn’t he bring me back into the other room?” Too late it struck her that Hopper might not know about her condition, and where she had spent the last days. Perhaps he thought she had been here all the time. He looked as if he didn’t know what to make of her question.

“He told me you had a serious fit. He moved you here after that, because he didn’t want to remind you of it.”

Apparently he didn’t know about the wolf thing. Which was better, in a way. It was probably scary to be in the same room with someone who could turn into a wolf and go on a killing spree any moment. Though she had never been uncomfortable around Ruby after she had learned about her friend turning into a wolf. Well, she hadn’t known about the rage and the pain, then. She sighed and put the envelope away. She wanted at least try to eat something, even if she could barely choke down a bite. The pastries were dry and tasted like cotton, and it was almost as hard to gulp them down as if they really were made of cotton. Belle tried not to show the trouble she had with swallowing, nor the disgust she felt. But Hopper noticed it nevertheless. 

“Shall I send for something else, Miss French?”

“Meat.” It was out before she could think about it, and she realized with a surge of shame that she wanted – needed, really – to bury her teeth in a steak. Preferably rare. Hopper raised his caterpillar eyebrows and took the small pastry plate from her hands. 

“Is there anything else?” 

Belle shook her head. She didn’t want to be alone, yes, but she could hardly ask Hopper to stay with her. 

“Are we already past the full moon?” she asked before he left, and again his gaze on her was somehow…curious. 

“Yes. One day past.” 

So Ruby would feel as bad as she did. “Would you send for Mary Margaret to spend some time with me? I’m…I am afraid of being alone.” 

“Of course.” He bowed curtly, and Belle was grateful he didn’t ask any questions. 

Mary Margaret looked as tired as Belle felt.

“I’m so glad you’re finally better! I was really worried.” Her friend hugged her, and trembled before she let go again. “I feared you wouldn’t survive that fever. And when Jekyll denied me to see you, I was ready to believe you were dead.” 

“He denied you to see me?” Belle knew of course that Jekyll had good reasons for this. But she could not relate them to Mary Margaret. Probably he had Hopper instructed to let no one in while he was with her down in the dungeon. She wrapped herself tighter into the knitted blanket she had draped over her shoulders and tried to shake off the memory of the dark and stinking place. 

“Even when I dragged Graham here to demand to see you.” It was not easy to deny Mary Margaret anything, but apparently Jekyll had been equally determined to shield Belle. Or shield Mary Margaret from Belle. “And Graham was really not happy about this. He was really concerned after learning that one of the murdered girls was a stray of his. You staying here, with Dr. Jekyll, drove him nearly insane.”

“What do you mean, a stray of his?” 

“He knew her. Although he has no idea how she ended up in the streets again. But not every stray he brings home stays off the streets.”

“That’s terrible.” For a moment Belle worried her lip and felt sad, because she imagined how upset Graham must be about this. And how this would only increase his determination to find the Ripper. But then another thought struck her. “Does that make him a suspect as well?” 

“What? No! Of course not.” Mary Margaret straightened and frowned at Belle. “Why would you say that?” 

Belle shrugged. Perhaps she should keep her thoughts on this to herself. But all of a sudden it made much more sense to her, seeing how determined Graham seemed to be to charge Jekyll with the murders. When she didn’t answer, Mary Margaret settled back in her chair at Belle’s bedside, but the warmth did not return to her face. 

“So, are you coming back to us when you’re better?” 

“I don’t know, honestly.” Jekyll had said it was forever. But he said it only once and never talked about it again. And she could hardly go back to live with Mary Margaret and Graham when she turned into a wolf once a month. 

“Well, just know you’re welcome with us.” 

“Thank you. I have to talk with Jekyll, I guess.” Belle wanted to take a sip from her tea, but when she moved, the blanket slipped from her arm, and Mary Margaret gasped. Belle looked down. Even through the fabric of her nightgown, the dark bruises and scrapes on her skin could be seen. 

“Did he do that?” 

“What? No, of course not. I…I had a fit, and I hurt myself.” Belle knew how feeble it sounded. 

“Belle, you know you can talk to me. You’re not married to him, there is no reason for you to stay here if he –“ 

“He didn’t hurt me, Mary Margaret. He hardly touches me at all.” Her voice sounded sharper than she had intended, but she wanted Mary Margaret to believe her and give it a rest. Her friend looked as if she wanted to say something else, but a tapping sound kept her from it. It was Jekyll, using his cane to make more noise than usual while crossing the laboratory adjoining Belle’s room. He paused in the door, giving her a moment to compose herself. Mary Margaret frowned at him, and Belle saw how suspicion hardened the face of her friend. 

“I’ll come back tomorrow, Belle”, Mary Margaret said. She left, slipped past Jekyll without a single word to him. Not until she was gone, he stepped into the room, seating himself where Mary Margaret had been sitting. He folded his hands over the handle of his cane and looked at Belle, his brows furrowed.

“So, I hardly touch you at all. Want to tell me what this was about?” 

“Mary Margaret thought you hurt me when she saw these.” She pulled back her sleeve and showed him her skin.

“I see.” He cocked his head, but he didn’t say anything else. Only then did she remember that he had indeed hurt her, as Hyde, hurt her so badly he was covered in her blood afterwards. But she had no recollection of it happening. It was as if it had not happened at all. After a moment Belle was compelled to speak again. 

“So, where have you been?”, she asked.

“I went to see Whale. I neglected the poor bloke over the last few days.” 

Belle remembered the letter that was still lying unopened on the bedside table. She decided that it could wait a little longer.

“I still don’t comprehend why you are his doctor”, she said. Jekyll snorted softly.

“You mean, because I’m responsible for his injuries? That’s exactly the reason why. Of course he doesn’t know that.” 

Belle pondered this for a while. “So, what else did you do?” 

He stiffened. Without meeting her eyes, he took her arm and brushed his fingertips softly over her skin. “Are you still in pain?”, he asked, and Belle frowned.

“Henry.” He winced when she spoke his name, and if Belle hadn’t known before, she’d be sure he was hiding something by now. “What else did you do?”

“I went so see my lawyer. Former lawyer, to be precise.” 

“Jones?” When he nodded, Belle considered to drop the topic. But something in his face, a grim line around his lips, convinced her that there was more to it than he told her. “Did you see him as a doctor, too?”

“That bastard could be dying and I wouldn’t help him.” His words came so sharp, dripping with so much loathing that Belle flinched and wrested her hand from his grip. 

“What did you do?” 

“Belle, he made your life miserable. He tried to hurt you.” When he saw her confusion, he sighed. “Mary Margaret told me about it when you were sick.”

“Well, first off, yes, he tried to hurt me. With words. Words cannot hurt me.” Jekyll raised a brow at this, and Belle had to admit that this was not completely true. “His words, at any rate.” She didn’t say that Jekyll’s words could hurt her only too well, that his words were able to cut through her like daggers. “And secondly, even if he tried to make my life miserable, I didn’t ask you to do something about it or even fix it. So, what did you do to him?”

“I merely reminded him that he’s not the only one with connections in this town.” 

Now it was Belle’s turn to raise her brows, and for a moment he looked like a stubborn little boy who had been caught with his finger up to his knuckles in his nose. When she didn’t say anything, he sighed. “I may have emphasized my words a little more vigorously than he asked for.”

“Will he survive?” 

“Sure. He may just not enjoy life so much over the next few days.”

Belle was torn between the notion that she should scold him, criticize him for beating another man, and a small part of her that savored the picture of Jones paying for his way of treating her. But she didn’t allow herself to revel in this feeling all too long. She didn’t like that vicious part of her.

“So, how is Dr. Whale?” 

“Recuperating.” Jekyll paused, and Belle could tell that the next words weren’t easy for him. “He asked when you can come back to work for him. He said you were a good assistant.”

“You don’t mind me working for him?” 

“Of course I do. Whale, of all people! But I don’t own you. It’s your decision.” He didn’t look at her, but instead fixed his eyes on his cane, and Belle had to suppress a smile. This was not easy for him, which made it even more valuable for Belle. She decided to memorize this moment in every last detail, the light on his face, the slight trembling of his voice, and keep it as a treasure close to her heart for the rest of her life. 

“I’ll think about it”, she said. Jekyll nodded and got up to his feet. 

“I’ll let you rest, then.” He hesitated before he bent down and pressed his lips on her forehead, only for the length of a heartbeat. When he was gone, Belle finally opened Whale’s letter. But when she had read the few lines, she wished she had never opened the damn thing. 

“Miss French. We need to talk about Edward. I’m sure we’ll find an arrangement that doesn’t afflict damage to our dear friend Henry Jekyll.”

He knew. 

  



	27. Twenty seven

He knew. There was no other possible explanation. Whale knew about Jekyll turning into Hyde. And he knew that she knew. 

Belle tried to forget Whale’s letter, tried to forget his words that lingered like sharp thorns at the back of her mind. She could not talk to Jekyll about this. He already put himself in too much danger by not only “interrogating” Jefferson, but now Jones, too. She was not sure if he still was the same composed, calm Jekyll she had first met. Belle became more and more aware of the violence that lurked beneath his surface, and it scared her. Before she told him, she wanted to know exactly what Whale wanted. Maybe she just…misinterpreted his words. Maybe they meant something else entirely. She had to find out first, but before she could find out, she had to get better. 

Jekyll didn’t bring her back to the front of the house, but instead kept her in the back, where only Hopper ever was allowed to, and only if Jekyll admitted him. He had to admit Hopper, eventually, since he had to leave her from time to time. And Belle didn’t even think about asking permission about Mary Margaret visiting her in the back of the house, and Jekyll didn’t protest to her friend's presence in the most private part of his house. 

Belle didn’t know if he kept her in the back to protect her from the world or the other way around. She didn’t dare to ask, and when he left her on her own the first night they spent out of the dungeon, she didn’t protest either. He resumed his former distance, and it was as if they had never spent days and nights together in a musty cell, as if their frantic encounter in that dirty alley had never happened. Although Belle, for the first time, was glad about it. She missed him, yes, but she feared to spill out her dreads about Whale and his ominous threat, and most of all she feared what Jekyll might do if she spilled out that secret. And as long as he kept his distance, he relieved her of the task to keep up a façade. 

It was something else entirely to keep her worries from Mary Margaret the next day. But her friend had her own worries, and for once Belle was glad for the ongoing mystery of the Ripper, since it kept Mary Margaret’s thoughts too busy to pay close attention to Belle. When Mary Margaret left, Belle felt almost content to be alone. Her skin no longer tingled and itched, she no longer felt empty and needy. Perhaps it had been the wolf thing that had turned her into that ravenous being, and now that she had turned, her hunger was stilled, sated for at least the next twenty eight days. But this notion left her wondering how much of her hunger for Jekyll – and Hyde, moreover – was genuine, was hers, and how much was the wolf’s. But then, she thought, she had not craved for any other man, any other man’s touch. Only for Jekyll’s, only for Hyde’s. So it had to be hers, her hunger, her longing. Still, she didn’t trust herself anymore. 

After two days spent in the dusty room, on the divan, she decided that she was well enough to go to Whale the next day. But the prospect frightened her, and didn’t want to spend another night alone, lying awake in the dark and tossing and turning in fear and anticipation. When had she stopped being able to sleep alone? When she lived with Graham, she had slept in one bed with Mary Margaret, and then it had been Jekyll who was always there, always looked for her to not be alone. Well, apart from that last night when she had slept – or rather tried to sleep – alone, while he was God knows where doing God knows what. So when she prepared for the second night out of the dungeon, she begged him to stay with her, hold her, and not even the fear of blabbing out her secret could bring her to spend another night alone.

“I thought you might need some time for yourself”, he said, an edge of surprise in his voice. 

“And you were right about that. But I can’t sleep alone. Please stay. Hold me.” 

He had been on his way out, but now he slowly stepped back into the room, hesitating, and she thought he looked almost…afraid. “Please?” she repeated, and he sighed and nodded. 

They had to snuggle closely together on the narrow divan, but Belle was glad that he did not once suggest to spend the night on a chair at her bedside. He held her, pressed himself against her backside, and she felt him relax after a while, the strain in his muscles slowly easing up and his breath, ragged at first, coming steady after a while. She felt safe, even content, and at some point she noticed the growing ache inside her, soft, more like the fluttering of butterflies than the clawing hunger she had felt before. Her breath hitched when he moved his hand on her arm, from her elbow up to her hand, and laced his fingers with hers. Ever so gently, he kissed the nape of her neck. His kiss made her shiver, and she knew then that her craving for him had not been a wolf thing. 

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, and she heard her own fear and nervousness reflected in his whisper. She had to swallow heavily before she was able to answer him.

“Don’t stop.” 

He drew a deep breath, tightening his grip on her for a moment, before he started to caress her side, her waist and ribs and belly, and she pressed her back against him in response. It was almost as if this was their first time, every touch so tender and soft and slow, and Belle tried to memorize every single moment of it. It was not the burning experience she had had before, not the madness that had driven her over the edge, but a warm and calm embrace that pulled at her heartstrings and made her cry. He kissed away her tears.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” 

“Yes. Please, don’t stop.” 

He didn’t stop, and when she climaxed in his arms, he held her and kissed her until her trembling subsided. Only then he allowed himself to come undone in her arms, buried deep inside her. She thought she saw Hyde for a heartbeat, but he forced his other self back, not willing to let go of his iron grip upon himself. Belle was glad for it. She wanted to relish this moment, him, didn’t want to spoil it with the savagery that inevitably followed Hyde. She hoped this moment would never end, but she drifted off to sleep, and not even his arms around her could keep away the dawning of a new day. 

***

“Miss French.” Dr. Whale sounded smug and slippery as mire. Belle gulped down her wrath and managed a nod, barely moving her chin at all. 

“I’m so glad you’re finally feeling better. I missed your cheerful company.” He smiled, and his teeth glinted in the dimness of his salon.

“You sent me a letter.” Belle had no capacity left for witticism and careful probing.

“Ah. You’re rather blunt today, Miss French. I was looking forward to a nice duel of words.” He cocked his head and a rather malicious smirk deformed his face. When she didn’t answer, he licked his lips. “Well, you must be aware that it’s rather rational for me to hold a grudge against Mr. Hyde. After all, he’s responsible for the sorry state I find myself in. So I’m eternally grateful to you for making it possible to find him at last.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, you were in a rather sorry state yourself when you were blabbing out that little secret. Do you even remember calling dear Jekyll with his other name?”

Belle went cold. It was her fault. She had given up his secret, had exposed him to Whale and his thirst for revenge. The realization stabbed her like icicles in the gut.

“I take that as a ‘No’ then”, Whale said, and she wanted to hit that smirk off his face. Instead she dug her nails deep into her palms and bit the insides of her cheeks until she tasted blood. 

“There’s no need for you to look so grim, Miss French. I’m not going to bite off your head. As I already said, your friend made sure I’m no threat to you. Or any other girl, for that matter.” 

“So what do you want?” Her voice was hoarse, and she despised herself for it. She didn’t want him to see her fear. 

Whale tapped his fingertips on the armrest of his chair, but the gesture made him hiss in pain. “Nothing that should be too difficult for you, Miss French. Judging by your rather intimate relation with Mr. Hyde, you’re quite adept at handling monsters.”

Belle snorted. He had no idea. But she kept silent, waited for him to get to the point.

“Well, you see, I have a…monster…of my own, that needs to be taken care of. And since I’m pretty much incapacitated, thanks to Mr. Hyde, I need someone to do that for me.”

“But why now? You could have demanded that from the start. You knew from the beginning about my affiliation with Hyde.”

“That I did. But I didn’t know if he would even take notice, since he vanished after he assaulted me. But now that I know where he’s hiding, I know that he will take notice when I take his little plaything from him.”

Belle went numb, her previous pain smothered by the tone of his voice. She didn’t know how to react, or which part of him she should attack first. But his voice froze her in place.

“I’d think twice about that, Miss French” he said, cold and sharp. “I made sure that Jekyll’s little secret will be uncovered when something happens to me. I think Mr. Jones will be more than thrilled when he opens that envelope of mine after my demise.” 

This was worse than everything she had imagined. She wished she could turn into her wolf form at will and tear out his throat, but as much as she tried, not a single hair on her body changed. “What do you mean by taking me from him?” 

“He has to feel some pain, don’t you think? So you’re going back to dear Jekyll, and take your leave. He’s quite fond of you, you know. Then you’re going to leave town. I have a country estate where the little problem that I need you to take care of is situated.” 

“And if I don’t?” It was a rhetorical question. She didn’t have much of a choice, and she knew it as well as he did. But the cruelty of it made her nauseous. She couldn’t go back to Jekyll and tell him she’d leave. Not after last night, not after the time he had spent with her, holding her, caring for her, down in his dungeon. And she didn’t even dare to think about Hyde.

“Miss French, either dear Jekyll loses you or you lose dear Jekyll. Either way, you’ll lose him. You don’t have much of a choice here.””

He was right. Her bones tingled and her spine was about to crack, but she knew she had no other choice but to accept. Maybe she’d be able to tear him to shreds when she turned the next time. Until then, she had to take patience. “So, what’s that monster I need to care for?” she asked.

“My brother.”

***

She didn’t know if she could do it, and she considered leaving Jekyll’s house without telling him anything, just go, vanish, and never come back. But that wasn’t the brave thing to do, and she knew she had to face him, even though she could not tell him what made her leave him. But the prospect of facing him, telling him, made her tremble in despair. They had never talked about ‘forever’, but the cruelty of it all –– making him succumb, open up to her, only to leave him – broke her heart. It would be less cruel on him to just die. 

Hopper sensed her mood when she arrived home and just melted into the tapestries, leaving her utterly alone. Jekyll was working in his laboratory, absorbed in measuring shiny liquids and mixing mysterious ingredients together. She watched him silently before clearing her throat and stepping into the room. She had no idea how to tell him, her mind was just blank, a black hole. 

“Belle. Everything alright? You look as if you have seen a ghost.” There was a tentative smile on his lips, and Belle drew a shuddering breath. When she didn’t answer he took his cane and stepped closer, and he gripped her shoulder and pressed her gently. “Belle, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, I have to leave.” She rasped it out, nearly breathless, and his face went cold. His grip on her shoulder grew almost painful, before he reigned himself in and let go of her. 

“What does that mean?” He tried to sound casual, but his voice was trembling, hardly audible. 

“I’m going home to my father.” 

“Why?” 

“Please, I just have to go.” 

“Will you come back?”

Belle closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see the hope quivering around his eyes, and didn’t have to see it shatter when she answered. “No.”

He was panting, and when she looked at him again, she could see how he tried to make sense of her words. There wasn’t any, so it was inevitable that he drew the wrong conclusion. He turned away, and Belle flinched when he lifted his cane and smashed it down on his working table, shattering glass bottles and bowls with one violent blow after another. She watched, frozen in horror, as he swept the shards from the table, and her breath caught at the back of her throat and made a croaking sound that didn’t sound human. When he turned around, he wasn’t Jekyll anymore. It was Hyde who closed the gap between them with dancing steps, his face contorted in deadly rage. 

“Edward, please, listen to me…” She tried to reach him, make him listen to her, but she didn’t get through to him. 

“So this was all nothing but a pretty little lie?” His high pitched voice cut through her, and her knees went weak and threatened to cave in beneath her. 

“No, it wasn’t. Please…”

“Shut up!” He grabbed her, shaking her like a ragdoll, and Belle whimpered in pain.

“Edward, listen…”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Her teeth chattered when he shook her again, and her body went limp. This was the Hyde that had nearly killed Whale. The one who had cut off Jones’ hand. The monster. He whirled her around, hurled her down on his working table, and she felt shards of glass pierce into her back. 

“Stop it. Please stop it”, she sobbed, shaken by uncontrollable tremors. He towered over her, staring blankly down, and Belle was almost sure she had lost everything, sure he was going to kill her. “Edward. Look at me, please.” It was only a whisper, and she had lost every last bit of hope of reaching him. He closed his eyes, his teeth bared in a snarl, the fight in him palpable. When he opened his eyes again, Belle saw his despair, and she felt almost pity. But then he closed his hand around her throat, and every ounce of sympathy left her.

“I almost believed you”, he hissed, before he flinched back, drawing himself almost violently away from her. She trembled, was too weak to move, but she managed to raise herself up and look at him.

He didn’t meet her eyes. 

“Go”, he said, and Belle fled without looking back. 

  



	28. Twenty eight

Belle could not remember how it felt to be warm. Not even the small iron oven in her room could keep away the cold with its fire. If she huddled up any closer to it, she would probably catch fire, but no matter how many blankets she wrapped around herself or how close to the oven she seated herself, nothing could drive away the cold inside her. It was not the house, Whale’s country manor, though old and gloomy and whining with a constant draft, that made her feel this cold. She was frozen from within, and she was in a way thankful for the numbing cold, because it prevented her from feeling anything at all. And right at the moment, she preferred the numbness. 

At first she didn’t know where to go. She knew she should go to Whale, show him his victory, but she couldn’t bring herself to go there just yet. Her first instinct had been to just keep walking until she fell off the edge of the world. But eventually the pain in her back had reached her senses, and she knew she couldn’t just keep walking, ragged and bleeding as she was. So she went to Ruby. 

Ruby didn’t ask any questions. She made Belle sit down in the kitchen and shooed Mrs. Lucas away. Then, after producing apple cider cake and tea, she began to pick the glass shards out of Belle’s skin. Belle hissed in pain, but she gritted her teeth and kept still. 

“It will heal fast, sweetie. That’s the upside of being a wolf.” Ruby tried to sound cheerful, and Belle was thankful for it. Only when last sliver of glass was removed and the bleeding out of the innumerous little cuts had stopped, Ruby asked what had happened.

“I don’t know. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“It?” 

Belle sighed. Right. Even she herself had no idea what ‘it’ had been. It was so much, and it was so painful to look at it, to even think about Jekyll – and Hyde –– that she chose not to think about it at all. 

“I’m leaving London”, she said instead.

“Are you going home?”

Belle thought about telling Ruby the truth, but then she just said “Yes”. 

Ruby bit her lip, but after a while, she smiled. “You will see your father again. And think about the possibilities! You can run through the woods, and you don’t have to worry about accidentally killing someone, because there probably is no one.””

“I don’t think that your idea of country life matches its reality. There are people everywhere. And everyone watches you and makes sure you don’t step over any lines.” 

“Well, but there are woods. Being a wolf in London is not exactly brilliant.”

“Is it different now that you know?” Belle asked. She hoped it was. If Ruby felt a difference, now that she knew she turned into a wolf, perhaps there was hope for Belle, too.

“In a way, yes. I remember.”

“Do you think there are others?” 

“Other wolfs? I don’t know.” Ruby shrugged. “There have to be. But I think if there were a lot more in London, you’d notice it. There would be a lot more killing around the full moon.”

“Maybe there is a way to control it.”

Ruby stared down into her teacup. “If there is, I haven’t figured it out yet.” 

This left Belle restless and unsatisfied. There had to be a way to control it. To turn only at will. But Ruby didn’t know it, so Belle supposed she had to figure it out on her own. 

She had been surprised when Whale informed her that he didn’t send her alone to his manor. 

“How would I know that you didn’t just run away then?” he asked, when she showed her astonishment. He wouldn’t know, of course, and Belle would have been lying if she claimed she hadn’t been thinking about it. After all, his main goal, to hurt Jekyll, was accomplished. Having her care for his monster was just the icing on the cake. And a rotten cake it was, Belle thought, when she climbed into the carriage and seated herself facing Regina Mills, who wore a smile on her red lips that could have greased every single hackney in London and bereft the town of their creaking. 

“Don’t look so sour, child”, the other woman said. “It’s a good time to leave this hellhole behind. I can imagine the Ripper would be beyond happy if he was to let his knife play with your delicious little throat.” Belle shivered at those words. They were grotesque in a way that made Belle nauseous, since Regina was holding a knife herself, pointing it at Belle as if she was about to slit her throat. Belle found it odd to speak with that warm and somehow admiring tone of murder, while at the same time pointing a knife at someone else. Regina, however, didn’t seem to think it disturbing, and she used the knife to pick her nails, and later she cut an apple and offered Belle a slice of the fruit that was as red as her lips. Belle shook her head, and Regina shrugged before she buried her pearly teeth in the apple slice. 

Belle found traveling with Mrs. Mills very tiresome. Her words dripped with condescendence, and soon enough Belle imagined to take one of those apples and shove it down Regina Mills’ throat. Somehow it helped her to focus on her anger, to not let her thoughts wander to the things she wanted to avoid. She concentrated on Regina, on the things that lay ahead. But the farther away from London the carriage took her, the colder she felt, and she wondered how many times a heart could break before it crumbled to ashes. Hers was certainly not more than a black clump in her chest by now. 

She hadn’t expected to be glad to finally arrive at her destination, but she was, if only because it meant that she could finally dodge Regina Mills. It was late, and a very old servant with more wrinkles than hair told her she would sleep first and meet her monster the following day. Though Belle wanted to protest to Whale’s brother being called “her monster”, she was actually relieved she didn’t have to face him at once. Whale had told her nothing about what awaited her, had only evaded her question with a malicious smirk. So now she found herself huddled up in a heap beside the oven, desperately trying not to think about Jekyll. Hyde. 

Her back didn’t hurt anymore, though at first, seated in the rattling carriage, she had felt as if her back would be rubbed raw by the time she’d arrive. The pain subsided, but her shock was still there. He had not even listened to her. He didn’t even ask why she left – not that she could have told him, but still. Especially after his tenderness the night before, his outburst shocked her almost into stupor. It hurt to think about it, but Belle decided to look at it, to pluck it apart, dissect the situation until she finally would understand what had happened. Best to do it before the cold inside her was gone and she would really feel the pain. But no matter how she turned it in her head, no matter from which angle she looked at it, it just didn’t make sense. He had just snapped. Perhaps, if she had found some twisted kind of sense in his reaction, she could have accepted it. Something had been strange, and it took her a while to realize it. When he snapped, when he had changed from Jekyll to Hyde, he had not been confused. Hyde had known what she had told Jekyll, had been fully aware of it. It had been the first time that she didn’t have to tell him twice. Belle wished she knew what this meant. 

Somehow she drifted off to sleep, and when she awoke, stiff and with a piercing pain between her shoulder blades, the first light of morning sneaked into her room. The first day of her new life. The same servant that had welcomed her the day before informed her that Regina was still sleeping, Belle had to take her breakfast in the kitchen and Gerhardt was locked in a cell in the east wing of the manor. He rattled this out in one long sentence without even breathing, and Belle needed a moment to grasp the meaning of his words.

“He’s locked in a cell?”

“Of course he’s locked in. It would be irresponsible to let him loose.” He looked at her as if he had serious doubts about her mental sanity, and his face crinkled into even more wrinkles.

“Um, what exactly is wrong with him?” Whale had told her nothing about his brother, and somehow she had assumed she’d have to care for someone incapacitated or with a very bad temper. But when the servant led her to the east wing, to a door that was barred with heavy chains, she began to doubt her assumption. 

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked, but the servant only shrugged. 

“Clean him, I suppose. No one goes in there. Dr. Whale sent a note that only said to let you take care of him. You would find a way.” And with that, he left her. 

Belle stepped closer to the door. There was a small peephole, and when she peeked through it, she only saw an enormous heap of rags. Then the reek of the room hit her and made her choke. It smelled of decay, of excrements, worse than even London’s gutters. When she choked and coughed, the heap of rags stirred and turned towards her, and between all its filth and crusted dirt, there was a face, staring at her out of hollow eyes. Belle recoiled. 

It was impossible. She could not go in there. The stench still burned sharply in her nose, but more than the smell scared her its eyes. The hatred burning in them. She decided she had to know more. She could not just open a cell, walk in without knowing what awaited her inside. 

When she descended down into the hall, Regina was there, about to leave.

“Uh, child, you don’t look well. Is everything alright?” Glee coated the woman’s voice, and Belle wondered if Regina thrived on the hatred she aroused in others. 

“What can you tell me about Whale’s brother?” Belle didn’t bother with courtesies. Mrs. Mills had to know something, and Belle would find out what it was. 

“Oh, there is as sure as death nothing that I could tell you about him. I think your only purpose here is to distract him for a while. Occupy his hands, probably. I don’t think there is anything you could really do, other than let him break every single one of your bones. Sounds like a good time, don’t you think?”

“Not exactly, no.” 

The smile with which Mrs. Mills watched her was too full of spite, too pleased. She had lured Belle to the slaughterhouse and now she wanted to see her crumble. Belle straightened her back. She would not crumble. Certainly not while that woman was watching. Without another word she turned, left Regina Mills behind and went into the kitchen, where she prepared buckets with water and soap. Maybe it was foolish to think she could help that poor creature, maybe she was really walking blindly into her undoing, but she was not about to let her fears rule her. She was here to care for a monster, so care she would. And if there was no hope for Gerhardt to get somehow better, how could there be hope for her?

She had to haul the buckets up the stairs herself, and by the time she reached the barred door again, her dress was sodden with water. Her fingers were numb and cold and she barely managed to open the locks that held the chains in place, and when she finally succeeded, they rattled much too loud to the ground. Before she opened the heavy door, she inhaled deeply. She didn’t know if the creature was going to attack her, to break her to pieces like Regina had suggested, but if she was honest with herself – and she had resolved to being honest again – then she didn’t care. Maybe there was a monster behind that door – so what. She was one, too. In fact, she had already seen so many monsters, she wasn’t even sure anymore if there was such a thing as a true monster. So she lifted the buckets with water, kicked open the door and stepped in. 


	29. Twenty nine

When she stepped into the room, the creature – Gerhardt – stirred and looked at her. Belle halted, watched him as he watched her, and she held her breath and waited for him to attack her. But he only squatted closer into his corner, away from her, as if he was afraid. 

“I’m Belle.” He flinched when she spoke, and a wave of his stench wafted over her. “I’m here to care for you.” 

His eyes remained blank and he didn’t show a reaction, so Belle was not sure if he had even heard her. She took a tiny step towards him, and when he didn’t move, another one.

“Gerhardt?” 

“I am no longer Gerhardt.” 

Belle winced at the sound of his voice, a hollow croak, as if he hadn’t used his voice in a long time. His eyes were fixed on a point somewhere behind her, but she didn’t look over her shoulder to see what it was. He had the look of a caged animal, long gone blind from staring at the bars of his cage. 

“Who are you, then?” 

Now he turned his head to face her, and it was as if he saw for the first time that he no longer was alone in his cell. 

“I don’t know.” 

Belle swallowed. She set the buckets on the ground and approached his hunched form with slow steps. The fetidness around him was nearly unbearable, and she tried to breathe through her mouth, not through the nose, but it made no difference. He was much bigger than he seemed, she noticed when she squatted down beside him and extended her hand carefully. He watched her hand as if she was about to bite him, and Belle held her breath when she touched his shoulder. She expected him to attack her any moment, like a cornered bear, but he just stared at her hand on him. 

“Let’s clean you up, shall we?” She let her hand glide down his arm, never taking her eyes off his face, so she could see every change in his expression, but he watched her hand on him, mesmerized, following it down to his own hand that was crusted with dirt. Belle didn’t know how to proceed from there, so she just touched the back of his hand for a while. Perhaps it was a good idea to let him get used to her touch before she tried to get him out of his rags and attack him with cold water. After a while, he looked up to her face.

“Why are you locked in?” she asked. His face remained impassive, and he seemed to ponder her question for a while.

“They are afraid of me.”

“Why are they afraid?” Belle tried to understand what the problem was, because other than being extremely dirty and reeking, there seemed to be nothing wrong with him. But when she began to peel him out of his rags and saw the scars, stitches that held his flesh together and gave him the appearance of a scary ragdoll – much like the one she had sewn herself when she was a kid – she began to understand that there had to be more to him. “Do they hurt?” she asked, her fingertips hovering over a thick scar on his arm.

He looked down at it and quickly away, as if it was painful to look at it. 

“Not anymore. Tell me, am I ugly?”

The question caught her off guard, and she didn’t know how to respond. He was ugly, yes, but she had met enough people that hadn’t been ugly on the outside but rotten to the core. Her mind produced an image of Hyde, who was ugly without a doubt. Still she had loved him. 

“I don’t know”, she said finally. Ugliness was not found on the outside. But she was not sure if she could explain that to him. He didn’t object when she started washing him, gently at first, because the water was cold and she feared to hurt him when she rubbed to firmly over his scars. But after a while, when he only grunted from time to time and let her handle him without protest, she increased the pressure to wipe away a year’s worth of filth on his skin. She was shocked by the amount of scars on his body. Something was definitely off with him, but she could not exactly pinpoint it. Perhaps it was the certain hue of his skin. No matter how hard she scrubbed him, there still was a shade of grey to it. When she had cleaned his upper body and came to his more private parts, she sat back on her heels. She was not exactly sure how to proceed, and he just sat there and stared at her.

“Um…could you take off your pants and, erm…wash yourself?”

He looked at the washcloth she extended towards him, and for a moment she feared he wouldn’t take it. She was not sure she could deal with him being naked and cleaning him  there . But he took the washcloth from her hand, hesitating, and she could feel his confusion. But then he stood up and slid his pants down without giving her the time to turn around to grant him privacy. 

“What are you doing?” she squeaked, spinning around on her heels. Her face burned and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to unsee what she had seen. 

“You said I should…” For the first time he didn’t sound dull, but confused, and shame over her own behavior crept in and made her squeeze her eyes even tighter shut, until it started to hurt. It was not as if she had never before seen a naked man. Well, she had seen one naked man. But she pushed away the image of him. Each time Jekyll – or Hyde – crept into her thoughts, his face changed into a mask of pain and rage, distorted and horrifying, and she could not look at this. Her insides twisted into painful knots, and she had to swallow down the bile that rose in her throat.

“Is it because I am so disgusting?” 

“No! Of course not.” She fixed her eyes on the wall, determined not to turn around to talk with him. “But this is highly inappropriate.” As if anything about this situation was in any way appropriate. He was quiet then, and Belle heard him dip the washcloth in water, rinse it, and she heard it glide over his skin, as it made a rasping, whispering sound.

“How shall I cover myself?” 

“Um…I think I have to find you something else to wear.” She looked around the small cell, but the only thing there was to cover him was a blanket that was as torn and tattered as his clothing. She would have to clean the cell, too, but she preferred not to think about that just yet. One step at a time, she decided. When she got to her feet, the stinking rags that had once been his clothes in her arms, he grabbed her wrist, fast as a steel trap, and his grip was strong enough to crush her bones, if he only squeezed a little tighter. Belle gasped and tried to free her arm from him.

“Will you come back?”

She stopped trying to wrench herself free and met his eyes. There was something sad in them, and she could even see a resemblance to Whale in his eyes. 

“Of course. Is there something I can get you? Something to eat, or a book?” She bit her lip and sucked in her breath, when his grip grew faster at her last suggestion. “Can you read?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Well, I just bring you one. Would you let go of me?” 

He stared down at his hand, and let go with a start. Belle rubbed the pain out of her wrist. He didn’t seem to be aware of his strength, but she reminded herself to be more careful around him. Perhaps there was a reason he was locked up. When she left the cell, she hesitated for a moment. It just seemed to be so cruel to lock him up again. But the words of the old servant lingered at the back of her mind – “It would be irresponsible to let him loose” – so she put the chains back in place.

She brought the buckets with the rags in them back to the kitchen, where she found the old man, who seemed to be the only other inhabitant of Whale’s house. He wrinkled his nose when she entered, and Belle wondered briefly how it was even possible to produce more wrinkles in his face than there already were.

“I need clothes for him.” She turned the buckets upside down and shook out the stinking rags at his feet.

“There is a room where you can find his former clothes. It’s in the west wing. Regina left.” Again he rattled the words out at a deafening speed, and Belle squinted her eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Regina left? When?” And why. But Belle was not unhappy to see her gone, so she didn’t ask this.

“About an hour ago. She left instructions for you to follow.” 

“Am I a prisoner, too?” Perhaps she should have thought about this before. Time she got her mind back to working properly. The servant – she didn’t even know his name, and right at the moment she wasn’t interested in it – just shrugged.

“I have no instructions to keep you locked up.”

Belle was relieved at that, though she told herself not to be thankful just for not being locked up. It only meant that Whale was sure enough to have her under control. And she would do nothing to endanger his illusion. There had been a time when she was annoyed by his misconception of her, his constant refusal to see her as a person, but now she was grateful for it. It meant that it was less likely for him to see her as a threat to his scheme of revenge. And she would find a way to make him realize his fatal mistake, and then it would be too late for him. 

Before she went to the west wing to find clothes for Gerhardt, she searched for a study or a library. If he was locked up all the time, he should at least be able to leave his prison through the pages of a book. She hadn’t taken Whale for someone who read, so she was glad when she found a library. Most of his books were medicinal discourses, but there were philosophical and literary works, too. She picked a small, leather bound volume first, one she herself had read before. 

She spent the afternoon cleaning the cell while Gerhardt was hunched up on his cot, skimming through the pages of the book. She was relieved to find that he could indeed read, though his own expression upon this discovery was almost comical. At first he stared at the pages, his forehead crinkled, uncomprehending, but then his face lit up. 

“Those are words”, he said, sounding happy as a child on a sunny day. Belle smiled, but her smile made him recoil, so she sobered her expression quickly. It seemed that, though he was not illiterate, many of his reactions were out of an instinct that somehow was animalistic. She thought about something she had once read – don’t smile at dogs, they could interpret it as a threatening gesture. So she attempted to keep her face serene while she listened to his exclamations over the book. When she was almost finished cleaning his prison, he let the book sink onto his lap and stared at the clothes she had brought for him, simple pants and a shirt that were easy to put on and take off.

“I’d like to have a blue tailcoat. And a yellow vest.” 

Belle tried hard not to giggle. He looked so solemn, so genuine in his wish. “Like in the book?” she asked, and he nodded. “Well, I’ll look what I can find. I have seen nothing of the sort with your clothes.” 

“I don’t have clothes of my own.”

“But there is a room with clothes and other items. Crinklewrinkle said it belonged to you.” 

He looked back to the book, his forehead creased, and Belle understood. He had no memories of it. It was as if he came as a grown man to this world, without any notion what had been before he was. 

“I’ll look”, she said again. When she left him this time, it was even harder to lock him in. But he didn’t even notice when she left, he was so absorbed in his reading. 

Belle was tired after this long and exhausting day, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. After washing herself, getting rid of filth and malodor, she decided to go out for a walk. She had done all her ways in London by foot, and she noticed that she missed walking, stretching her limbs and exercising her muscles. Although her body hurt from the exertion of cleaning, it was not the gratifying pain she felt after moving. And she noticed that her body hungered even more for exercise since she turned into a wolf. 

The manor lay secluded between woods and green hills, and Belle relaxed a little when she walked between elms and beech wood. She even ran for a while, sure that no one would see her. Her body was strong, even though she had been sick only a few days ago. Nothing was left from that sickness, nothing but a slight pain in the pit of her stomach, a constant nausea that grew stronger when she thought of Jekyll – of Hyde. 

She paused when she reached a small creek, sank down to her knees at the riverside, panting, and staring at the clear, gurgling water. She felt the air on her face, smelled the water, the woods, felt the soil beneath her with every fiber of her body, with a clarity she recognized as a part of her wolf’s nature. She closed her eyes, inhaled, wished her body to change into its wolf form. But nothing happened, and after a while she gave up. It was as if something kept her from connecting to the thing inside her, kept her from reaching the wolf inside her. She clawed her fingers into the loose soil just to hold something, to feel, but all she felt was the nausea. This was all Hyde’s fault. She curled up into a ball, embracing her knees and rocking back and forth, and she longed for something she couldn’t name. She wanted to cry, let out the tears, but everything was dry, her eyes, her throat, her tongue, and all she felt was a burning knot beneath her breastbone. A burning knot of bile that pressed her breath out of her lungs and pierced her sides, a knot she recognized as hatred. 

She hated Edward Hyde. She hated Henry Jekyll. God how she hated them. 


	30. Thirty

Not a single hair on her body changed, no matter how often she tried over the next few weeks. Each night, Belle went for a walk, ending up beside the small creek, trying to change her form. She had no idea how to make it happen, and perhaps it was something that couldn’t be controlled. If she only had a book or something about it. But apart from Whale’s useless medicinal treatises, there was not much in his library that was of any help. Belle had never expected that she would reach a point in her life when books could be of no help, couldn’t offer her comfort or the knowledge she needed anymore.

Somehow she envied Gerhardt, who had read the small book she gave him from cover to cover and all over again, breathing in the words as if they were spilling from the holy grail.

“What is love?” he asked. Of course he didn’t know that Belle was the last person able to answer his question. If she ever had known love, there was nothing left of it.

“It’s an emotion”, she said, but it felt flat and was not enough.

“So you feel it?” he asked, clutching the little book to his chest and watching her with hope trembling around his lips, the nerves beneath his eyelids twitching. Belle realized she had to be careful with her answer. There was a tension in him that made her even more wary than before. When she had told him she hadn’t been able to find the clothes he wished for, the blue tailcoat and the yellow vest, he had almost broken her to pieces, like a toothpick. His vast hands had shot forward, grabbing her upper arms and crushing and grinding her bones. She had forgotten how fast he could move, how strong he was.

“There has to be something to dress me!” he roared, and Belle was stumped by his request, and the vehemence of it.

“But why do you need it to be this kind of clothes?” She tried to sound calm, not to let him see the fear and the pain. He stared at her, and the grey of his skin was streaked with blue, pulsing veins. His grip fastened even more.

“I…feel so much. I’m able of all those compassions. I am like him.”

Belle hadn’t known how much he longed to belong, to connect, and that his wish for those specific clothes originated in his yearning to show his alikeness. “I’m sorry I could not find you a yellow vest. I’ll try again.” Her promise seemed to appease him, and finally he let go of her. She retreated carefully, left the room slowly, biting her cheeks to keep herself from shaking. She supposed it was to thank her wolf nature that she survived that incident. The wolf made her stronger, even if she still wasn’t able to turn. But after that, she was warier around him. Now she knew he really was dangerous. And she wondered how Whale could send her - or anyone - near his brother. Perhaps he wanted her to die without dirtying his own hands. This notion made her bitter. But it never crossed her mind to just go and leave, and she didn’t hold Gerhardt’s behavior against him. He didn’t know his strength, and he didn’t know how to behave with others. He had been all alone for as long as he knew he existed. Locked up. Other than Hyde, he didn’t know that his way of behaving was hurtful to others. She couldn’t help but compare Gerhardt to Hyde, though every thought of him and Jekyll only increased her bitterness.

The incident made her aware of the need to control the wolf inside her even more. She needed to be able to defend herself. So she tried to turn, each night when darkness settled, out in the woods. But not until the next full moon was near did she feel something change, feel heat surging through her, her sense of smell and hearing heightening, and she felt connected to her surroundings. But it passed in a heartbeat.

Now, looking at Gerhardt and the longing that made him quiver, she wished to be somewhere else.

“You do feel it?” he asked again.

“I did. Once.” She didn’t want to think about it, and it made her voice harsher than she intended it to be.

“And was it all you expected it to be?” Still he pressed the book to his chest. If she had known how deep a book about a ridiculous whining man in a blue tailcoat and a yellow vest would affect him, she would have picked a different one.

“It was…different. It hurt and it broke me into pieces and it was wrong and twisted and hopeless. But it was beautiful and warm, too, and it was good as long as it lasted. But when it’s gone, it’s gone forever.” She chose her words carefully, but still the pain made her voice raw and hoarse.

He pondered it for a moment, taking away the book from his chest and looking at it.

“It sounds a lot like what he says.”

“Why is it so important to you?” she asked, because she didn’t want to think there was any similarity between her feelings and the man in the book who had, in the end, killed himself. And after all, her love was gone.

“I’m capable of all these emotions. I can feel this, too.” He watched her with an expression of longing and want that made her shiver. She backed away, with tiny steps, aiming for the door of his cell.

“Do you want me to bring you another book?” she asked, and wonder flitted over his face.

“There are more?”

Belle relaxed, a tiny bit, but she didn’t feel really safe until she closed the door of his prison behind her. She would have to choose his next book more carefully.

When she came down to the study, she found a newspaper on Whale’s desk. He sent them to her from time to time, and she supposed he wanted her to remember what she had left behind. As if she needed something to remind her. The thought of Jekyll and Hyde burnt inside her, every day, every night. When she closed her eyes, she saw his distorted face, felt his fingers on her throat, and his voice that send her away. Now that the full moon was near, she remembered the nights in his dungeon, when he had held her in his arms. This time she’d be all alone. And although she didn’t want to see him ever again, she was afraid of what she might do if no one was there to protect the world from her. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to control her actions. Afraid she would hurt someone.

This time, the papers held news that shocked her. There had been another murder, and Jack the Ripper, as he was called now, had sent a letter that contained half a kidney to Albert Spencer, chairman of the Whitechapel vigilante committee. She wondered if this was the same Spencer that had accompanied Graham during his last visit of Jekyll, the one she had overheard with Ruby. But more than that she wondered if she perhaps had been wrong. Maybe Jekyll really was the Ripper. He had detested that man, Spencer, and sending a removed organ was revolting and gruesome. It sounded like something Hyde would do. But then she shook her head, as if to chase away her doubts. She knew he had nothing to do with that. And it didn’t mean he had changed, only because her love for him was gone. She put away the newspaper and picked another book for Gerhardt. It was getting dark outside, and she grabbed her coat and left the house for her walk.

She was restless, her nerve endings tingling, and she wondered if this was due to the approaching full moon. When she reached the little creek, the place where she usually halted to practice her turning, there was something different. It was in the air, something that laid itself heavy on her senses, but other than her own nervousness, she couldn’t say what it was. The water seemed to be louder, its gurgling almost menacing, and the leaves that usually rustled gently seemed to howl in anger, beating each other in madness. She was more alert than in the nights before, listening to every sound, and she believed to hear mice and bugs and even the owls that darted soundlessly out of the sky at the mice and bugs and snakes. Every sound prickled on her skin. Then she noticed that her skin was covered in fur, and she didn’t even know how it had happened, but she knew then that she had changed. She bared her fangs in a snarl, stretched her limbs, broke into a run and leapt into the water, and everything around her was no longer separated from her but also in her, in her blood, her breath, her flesh. When she left the water and sent drops of water flying everywhere, she got the scent of something, a small animal maybe, and her whole body tensed in anticipation. She hungered. It was a hare, crouching in a hollow on the ground, and she heard its little heart thumping fast, so fast. When she snapped its neck with her teeth, its fur and blood filled her jaws, was hot on her tongue, and its heart stopped, huffed out like the flame of a tiny candle. She devoured the little animal, and it felt natural to rip apart the little body and guzzle it down raw as it was. It filled her with joy, and she couldn’t help but wallow in what remained of the tiny body. She was strong and alive, and she chased through the woods and howled in delight.

She came back to the creek, and she remembered that there was something else, something beyond the wolf, and as she thought of it, she changed back, slipped into her other form and found herself lying naked beside the flowing water. She panted, laid on her back for a while in the night surrounding her, in her, filling her with darkness and stars and cool air. Her clothes were nearby, and she crawled there and managed to put them on.

Since Ruby had scratched her, her eyesight was better, and she had no difficulties finding her way back to the house despite the darkness. But when she left the woods behind, the house was not the gloomy mass in the night it had always been before when she came back. It was brightly lit, its windows glowing like shiny teeth, and she paused at the sight of it. Why was it alight that way, when there only lived three people, Gerhardt, Crinklewinkle and herself? When she drew closer to the house, her steps making soft crunching sounds on the rubble path, she smelled horses. Someone had arrived. Maybe it was Whale who wanted to check on her. Maybe he was well enough by now to make the journey from London. Nevertheless she approached the house with caution in her steps, wary of the intruder. She slipped inside through the back, the servant’s entrance, and she was glad she didn’t meet Crinklewrinkle in the kitchen. But when she crossed the hall on tiptoes, she heard voices, and one of those froze her in place.

“So you thought you were particularly brilliant sending her here to deal with your abomination?”

His voice rushed through her with another surge of heat, and for a moment she feared she had changed again, but when she looked down at her hands, they were still human. Clenched into claws, but still human.

“It worked, didn’t it?” That was Whale.

“You have no idea.” Jekyll sounded as if he was about to kill the other man, and before she could decide otherwise, Belle burst into the study, where both man were facing each other, Whale seated in the armchair behind his desk, Jekyll pacing the room, with bloodlust all over his face. But when she entered the room, somewhat deranged from her walk and her turning, he whirled around to face her. And froze.

“What the hell?” It was Whale who broke the silence, but Belle hardly heard him. Her eyes were fixed on Jekyll. He seemed to drink in her face, and he looked at her as if he didn’t dare to breathe, afraid she might vanish before his very eyes.

“Miss French, your face…Are you alright?”

She had to tear her gaze away from Jekyll to look at Whale, but she had no idea what he was talking about.

“Yes. Why are you here?”

Still both men stared at her as if she was an apparition. A ghost.

“Belle…”

“Don’t call me Belle!” It was a snarl, and Jekyll flinched at her tone. Good. He had lost every right to use her name, to take what was hers and twist it into something as broken and wrecked as he was.

“Miss French, you’re covered in blood. Did something happen to you?” Whale raised his voice, as if he needed to shout to get through to her. She brought her hand to her face, and when she drew it back it was smeared with blood. She remembered the hare. Its blood was still on her face, on her lips, and she flicked her tongue over them and tasted the blood there. She turned and vomited on the carpet, and noticed out of a great distance how someone rushed to her side, held her hair out of the way and steadied her.

“Oh Lord, this carpet is priceless. Stop it!”

“Shut up, Whale.” It was Jekyll who held her, touched her, and his touch prickled on her skin, sent jolts of electricity through her and made her retch even more. When she was sure there wouldn’t come anything more, she wiped her face with the sleeve of her coat and yanked her arm from him, ignoring his hurt look. Without another glance back, she bolted from the room, up the stairs and into her own room, locking the door behind her.

She sank down on her bed, trembling, and hugged herself. What did he want here? He had sent her away, without giving her so much as a chance to explain why she had to leave him. Did he honestly think he could show up out of the blue and she would take him back? She rocked back and forth, trying to calm down, and she was not at all surprised when there was a gentle knock at the door.

“Go away”, she yelled.

“Miss French, please let me in.”

Now she was surprised. It wasn’t Jekyll at her door, but Hopper. She considered to send him away nonetheless. But then, it was very brave of him to come to her. And she appreciated bravery, especially in someone like Hopper, who had perfected the ability to weasel away if it got dangerous. Perhaps he just had no idea how dangerous _she_ was. She wiped her face once again with her sleeve. It was already ruined, so it didn’t matter anyway. But before she unlocked the door, she listened for a moment. She was amazed that she could hear his heart beating through the door, but then, she could hear so much more. She was not sure if the blood thundering in her ears was his or hers.

It was his, she decided when she opened the door. He was pale as a corpse, sweating and trembling.

“Is everything alright or are you afraid I’ll kill you?” He winced at her question, but he tried to give himself an air of confidence. He failed, though.

“Miss French, may I speak with you?”

“About what?”

“Please let me come in.”

She creased her forehead at his request, but she stepped aside and let him come in. She felt certain enough to be able to rip him to shreds, just as she had done it with the hare, if he decided to act unwisely. He walked in and halted in the middle of her room, writhing and shifting uncomfortably.

“It’s about Dr. Jekyll. And Mr. Hyde.”

“Then you can just go. I don’t want to talk about them.” She opened the door wider and indicated him to leave. He didn’t. A sad smile flitted across his face.

“I’m aware of your disagreement, but I beg you to let me talk to you.”

Belle stared determinedly out of the door, but he just stayed where he was.

“After you were gone, he didn’t turn back for twenty-one days.”

Now she had to look at him. “You mean he was gone.”

“No.” His lips twitched, and he didn’t meet her eyes. “I mean he didn’t turn back into Dr. Jekyll for twenty-one days. This is the longest time he ever stayed as Mr. Hyde to date.”

“So you knew the whole time.”

“From the very first time he turned, yes.”

She kept silent for a moment, watched him shift from one foot to the other. “I still don’t know what this has to do with me.”

“Of course not, no.” Hopper sighed. “You see, it was different this time. Until now, he was separated into two independent individuals. One didn’t know what the other was doing. This time, however, it was as if both had merged on a certain level. They were united in wrath.”

“So Jekyll knew what Hyde was doing?” She had expected something like this. The moment he had turned from Jekyll to Hyde, he had known exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly what had happened right before he turned. What she had told him.

“More so, he influenced it.”

“So why did he turn back?” She thought she didn’t want to know, but she couldn’t keep herself from asking. There was another sad smile on his face.

“Because of your father. He turned up on our doorstep and demanded to see you. Somehow he had gotten the idea that Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde were holding you captive, and he was there to free you out of the clutches of the beasts.”

Her father. She could imagine where he had gotten that idea, and it made her clench her teeth in rage. But she also shivered at the idea of her father facing Hyde. Her father was frail, feeble, in no way capable of facing a beast. But he had done it nevertheless, and it made her heart swell with love.

“What happened?”

“Well, after Hyde decided to listen to the old man and have some fun with him, he realized that something couldn’t be right. You said you would return home. Your father had not seen you. So something was clearly amiss.”

“Hopper, what do you mean, he decided to have some fun with my father?” Belle hadn’t even heard the rest of his explanation, too shocked with the notion of what Hyde considered to be fun happening to her father. After all, Hyde had beaten Whale nearly to death for his _amusement_.

“Don’t worry, your father’s fine. Certainly better than he deserves to be”, he grumbled, and before Belle could ask what this meant, he continued. “However, once he realized that something was clearly wrong, he left your father be and turned back. And then he started searching for you.”

“He could have saved himself the trouble. First of all, he could have listened to me from the start. Secondly, it’s too late. I don’t want to talk to him anymore. And above all, why does he send you to talk to me? Is he so much of a coward?”

“He’s not sending me. But I know him well enough to know that he swallowed his tongue the moment you walked in on him threatening Whale a few minutes ago.”

Belle felt a snicker burbling up, and this annoyed her beyond words. She didn’t want to let her mood be softened, she didn’t want to forgive Jekyll. She wanted to continue hating him and spare herself the pain of dealing with him. “Well, thank you for telling me”, she said. “But now I want to be alone. It seems that I’m covered in blood, and I’d like to clean myself.” Again she pointed at the door, and Hopper made a few steps towards it. But before he left the room, he hesitated again, surveying her from head to toe.

“Did you turn?” he asked, and Belle wanted to slap him.

“You know that, too?”

“Did you kill someone?”

“Yes. Yes, I killed someone. I killed a hare, and I’m sure its family is weeping for it somewhere, so why don’t you go and comfort them.”

She was shocked at her own words, and as soon as they were out, she wanted to apologize. But Hopper shocked her almost as much as her words by extending his hand and placing it on her shoulder.

“It’s natural to feel guilt. As long as you feel the guilt, you’re still human. If you want to talk, I’m here for you.”

She watched him walk down the corridor and disappear around the corner. And she wondered if she really felt guilty for killing a rabbit. Certainly more guilty than for vomiting on Whale’s precious carpet. When she wanted to close her door, she heard the soft, tapping sound of a cane, and she wasn’t surprised when Jekyll emerged out of the shadows.

“Miss French. May I have a word?”

Her insides twisted painfully. She had forbidden him to call her Belle, but it hurt to hear him call on her so formal. “I’m sorry”, she said, and her voice trembled. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

And she closed the door without looking at him.


	31. Thirty one

Belle rested her forehead against the door and listened for a moment. She was torn between the hope he would go away and the hope he’d stay, explain himself, beg for her forgiveness. But ultimately, when his steps receded, she was relieved. At least she told herself to be relieved.

She was too awake to sleep that night. How was she supposed to sleep, knowing that he was somewhere in this house? And she wondered if he was lying awake, too, thinking of her, and wishing for her warmth wrapped around him, longing for her, craving for her nearness. She didn’t want to crave for him. She didn’t want to hunger for him. But she did, and every time her mind conjured his image, she tossed and turned and tried to shove it away. She failed, utterly.

When she got up the next morning, she was tired and fuzzy, as if her head was stuffed with cotton. Or the fur of a dead rabbit. She dragged herself down to the kitchen to take in a meager breakfast before she attended to Gerhardt. She supposed this was still assigned to her. Even if Jekyll knew why she had left him, now, she still had left him. Nothing changed that. She had a purpose, a task. Although she wondered if the reason that tied her to this task still stood. But Whale could still expose Jekyll. Hyde.

She took Gerhardt’s breakfast with her when she left the kitchen, a small tray laden with fruit and steamed vegetables. Gerhardt couldn’t stand the taste of meat, he said it made him feel black and dead inside. He thought it to be barbaric and detestable to kill and eat meat. Belle wondered again how a creature like Gerhardt could hold such a gentle soul. But then, he was not as gentle when it came to mankind. She was almost on the top of the stairs when someone emerged out of a door on the top landing. Of course it had to be Jekyll. She cursed her luck that made her run into him, of all people, in a house as big as this.

He looked at the tray in her hands before he greeted her with a merely visible nod.

“Miss French”, he said, and she cursed herself. But she had wanted him to call her that, and she didn’t plan on being the one to cave in.

“Dr. Jekyll.” He flinched, and she noticed it with a small surge of satisfaction. So it hurt him, too. Good.

“Where are you heading?” He looked back at the tray, and he creased his forehead.

“What’s it to you? You didn’t ask the last time.” Oh well. Why not show her pain and hurt him, too. He certainly deserved it. But when he tensed and took a step towards her, his jaws clenched and his shoulders squared, his knuckles white on his cane, she wondered if it was wise to hurt him. She felt almost bad for him, and an apology lingered on the tip of her tongue. But she held it back. He stilled, only an arm’s length away from her, his eyes narrow slits and his nose sharper than usual in his face. She had always loved his nose, and marveled over its expressive power.

“I’m asking now. You don’t have to serve here anymore. I released you from his service.”

Belle stepped back, into nothingness, and she’d tumbled down the stairs if he hadn’t grabbed her arm and yanked her to his chest. He let go of her as soon as she was steady again. She balanced out the tray in her hands before she dared to look at him, and it was not only the shock of her near fall and his touch that made her tremble. “You did what?”, she asked, and there was a shrill tone in her voice.

“I freed you from your obligation. It was not your responsibility to protect me in the first place, and you should have told me before doing such a thing.”

“You should have listened to me then. And it’s not your responsibility to free me from anything. No one decides my fate but me.” Her arm still prickled where he had grabbed her. She chose to ignore it. Instead she focused on him and the startled look on his face.

“So you want to stay here and expose yourself to Whale’s…creature? He’s dangerous.”

“So are you. And so am I, for that matter.” She didn’t want to stay, no, but she didn’t want to admit this. Not to him. He folded his hands on the handle of his cane, and his knuckles turned a little whiter. Defensive and secluded as ever. If only she could shake him. “Yes, I’m going to stay here. As long as Gerhardt wants me to stay.”

Jekyll backed away another step, then, and Belle felt the distance between them like physical pain. The more space there was between them, the more pain she felt. She turned away, without another word, and made her way to Gerhardt’s cell. Jekyll didn’t follow her, and she didn’t know if she was grateful because he heeded her every request, or if she hated him for it.

She had forgotten to bring the new book with her, and Gerhardt was disappointed. Belle was surprised that Whale hadn’t visited his brother yet, surprised that Gerhardt didn’t even know his brother had arrived. And when she told him about it, his face hardened, the blue veins under his skin thickened, and his expression became a mask of fury. Belle thought it to be wise to retreat early then, leave him sulking and clenching his fists around his little book. But leaving him meant to spend the rest of the day purposeless. Aimless.

Sneaking out of the servant entrance, she left the house, walked into the woods. She ended up beside the little creek, and somehow it was like coming home. She had spent so many nights there that she knew every sound, each bubbling noise of each stone in the crook bed, each rustle and rushing. The birds were different by day though, and she listened to their tweeting and twittering for a while, trying to distinguish them by their voices. It took her a while to become aware of the steps, the leather boots dragging through fallen leaves and soft grounds. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, sucking in air and scents, trying to find out who drew closer. It was an instinctive reaction, something that sprang from her guts, something she didn’t have to think about. Though, when she smelled him, she knew she wouldn’t have needed his scent to know him. The sound of his unmatched steps, and the cane digging deep into the soil would have been enough. She contemplated to get to her feet and sneak away, through thickets and over rocky steeps, where he couldn’t follow her. But that would have been cowardly. He wanted to see her, he sought her out. It was not a coincidence he drew closer and closer to her, so she just sat there and waited, pretending not to notice him. She continued to ignore him even when he sat down beside her, clumsy and somewhat awkward.

“Please, let me explain” he said, and the turmoil in his voice almost killed Belle.

“It’s too late. You could have talked to me when I told you I’m leaving.” It still hurt, hurt so much that hearing his voice stabbed her with the force of lightning, and she wished to be senseless, to not hear him, not smell him, not see him.

“Yes. You’re right. And you’re perfectly right being angry with me. I was overwhelmed by my fear of losing you. Like I lost my son. My wife. I took you leaving me as proof that you couldn’t possibly love me. Want me. After all, who could ever love a monster?”

It cost her every ounce of strength not to look at him. “There are no true monsters. I haven’t yet encountered one, and even the beastliest of men are still men in the end.”

“This is because you have a special way of looking at them. You see men where others see monsters, and monsters where others see men. You look at them and see right into their heart.”

Now she had to look at him. His gaze was fixed on the little creek at their feet, and he rolled his cane between his palms, the only sign of his nervousness. Belle stared at those hands for a moment, his slender fingers and his well manicured nails. She wondered how different those nails were from those of Hyde, who had more talons than fingernails. She shivered.

“I’m not sure I really saw your heart”, she said, and his jaw twitched.

“That’s because I don’t know if I still have a heart. Every loss I suffered chipped something away of it, and when I met you, there was so little of it left, I didn’t even know I still was able to love.” He paused, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled. “And before you touched my heart, you lured out something entirely different…”

Belle tensed and held her breath. He didn’t mean… “Are you saying it’s my fault you turn into Hyde?”

His head spun around, and he looked shocked. “God, no. Of course not. He was there before I knew you. I’m just saying that Hyde wanted you before I was even remotely close to acknowledging my…fascination.”

“Wanted me.” Still she held her breath, and she stretched her spine, her vertebrae clunking audible. Heat rose at the small of her back, and she was not sure if it was rage or a sign of turning. He looked away again, his lips tightening.

“I’m not sure if Hyde is capable of more than want. But I believe that his whole being focused on you the moment you walked in that door, the day you brought by those papers.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t. But Hopper told me as much.”

Belle wondered briefly about Hopper and his role in Jekyll’s life. But this was not her concern, not now. “So now, what? You want me back? Because of…want and fascination?”

His hands on his cane tensed, and Belle swallowed. There was so much pent-up violence in his hands, in his tension, the way his face hardened, and Belle knew she should be afraid. She thought of his blaze when she had told him she left him. She had been sure he was going to kill her. But he hadn’t. Instead he had let her go, and this one moment gave her the certainty that he would not hurt her. It didn’t mean she was going to forgive him. Not that easy.

“It’s not only want and fascination.” His tone was strained, his voice short of cracking.

“Then what is it?”

He turned back to her, and he looked forlorn, deep lines etched around his eyes. “Can’t you tell?”

“No.” She scrambled to her feet and smoothed out her dress. He remained seated at her feet, and when she looked down at him, he looked as if he was about to shatter, like a delicate vase left outside in winter. “No, I can’t tell if you don’t tell me. I loved you, but I can’t love you if you don’t trust me. And you don’t even trust me enough to tell me what you feel, let alone to believe me what I feel. Felt. You took my love and formed it into a knife, you stabbed me with it, and you’re twisting it a little more each time you talk to me. Love is not supposed to be like this.”

She wasn’t able to breathe, and she hated herself for her trembling voice and the tears that blinded her. She longed for him to take her into his arms, embrace her, whisper to her that everything would be alright, but she knew he didn’t dare to touch her, out of his fear to hurt her. He was a coward, and his fear to hurt her hurt even more than his hands, when he had shaken her and hurled her down on a table covered with broken glass. He stemmed himself up, relying heavily on his cane, an awkward and ungainly move, painful to watch, but she refrained from helping him up.

“And that is exactly why you shouldn’t love me. Because everything I touch withers and blackens. I want you to be happy.”

 _I could have been happy with you_ , she wanted to shout, but she bit it back. “Well, I’m not happy. And by the looks of it, you aren’t either.” She turned and started to walk away, without another word. Everything was spoken.

“Belle.” His voice held an order, not a plea, and she couldn’t help but stand still. He had never used this tone on her before, never demanded, only ever asked. She didn’t turn to face him, but when he came up behind her, much too close, she felt his breath on her neck, and she shivered. He didn’t touch her, but his words condensed like caresses on her skin.

“I do love you. More than I ever imagined to love a woman. But evidence suggests that I’m not the best thing that can happen to a person. Ask my late wife. My son. Whale. Jones. Ask yourself.”

Her skin prickled, and she thought it must be because he was so close now that electrical sparks flew between them, like miniature lightning strokes. Her knees went weak, and she clenched her hands into her skirts to keep herself from falling, from melting back against him. She was still mad at him. But hear him actually say the words soothed her more than she had imagined. It was as if the words wrapped themselves around her, like a blanket of silk - bright, orange silk, warm and soft. _I do love you_.

But he was right. She had never known it was possible for another person to hurt her the way he had hurt her. As if he had clawed open her chest and gnawed at her heart. And words couldn’t mend that. She closed her eyes and bit her lip while tilting her head, exposing the side of her neck to him. Her chest heaved with her heavy breathing. He didn’t touch her, but he didn’t step back either. They were frozen in place, and neither knew what to do nor what to say.

“Does this mean you don’t want to be with me?” Belle asked finally, whispering, afraid he wouldn’t answer. Or, worse, decline.

“I do want to be with you. But I can’t promise not to hurt you. I’m not always rational.”

Finally she allowed herself to sink back against his chest, with a low, shuddering laugh, and only then he wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned his forehead against the crook of her neck. She felt him draw in a deep, trembling breath, and his embrace tightened for a heartbeat.

“I’m sorry for causing you pain” he whispered against her skin, and Belle stifled a sob. He turned her around to face him, and Belle could see the truth of his words in his expression, in his face crinkled in sorrow over the pain he had inflicted on her. He raised his fingertips to her cheek and captured a strand of her hair, tugging it behind her ear with so much gentleness as if she would dissolve into thin air if he touched her too hard. Or at all. She leaned into his touch, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down when he swallowed.

“So, what happened yesterday?” he asked, and Belle wondered if he wanted to keep himself from kissing her by talking.

“I turned.”

He grasped her shoulders and creased his forehead in concern. “At will? It’s not yet the full moon.”

“Yes. I suppose it was at will. I practiced it.”

“But why?”

Now it was her turn to frown at him. “Well, it could come in handy. In case someone dashes me across a room and down on a table covered in glass shards. Again.” She had not intended to remind him of it, but she couldn’t help herself. And it worked; he let go of her and stepped back, and she wondered if they had just destroyed whatever understanding they had reached over the last few minutes. His tongue flicked over his lips, and he placed his cane between them. So his defenses were back in place. Terrific.

“You’re right. Hyde could have injured you in earnest. He certainly intended to.”

“No, he didn’t. You didn’t. Because Hopper told me that it was different this time.” She took a step towards him, so close she collided with his cane. Her stomach pressed against his hand holding it, but he held it in place, the handle digging hard into her belly. Instead of backing away, he squared his shoulders, and Belle could feel the mounting aggression in both of them. It always came down to this, it seemed. She cornering him, he waiting for her to lunge at him. Her nerves vibrated in anticipation.

“It may have been different. That doesn’t mean it will be like that the next time. You should fear him.” His voice had dropped to a growl, as always when he tried to warn her of himself. She rolled her eyes at him.

“I thought we were far beyond that. Whatever monster you are doesn’t change what I feel for you.” She ignored the voice in the back of her head that whispered _liar, liar, you hated him not so long ago_.

“Then you are a fool.” He drew back the cane and planted it on his side, relying heavily on it. But he had cleared her way, and that was as good an invite as any.

“We’re past that, too. You already told me how foolish you think me to be.”

“Then you should start to listen.” His lips curved into a smile that was half a snarl. His pulse was beating fast, she could not only see it, but hear it as if it was her own. He felt the rush of heat, of anticipation as much as she did. She wondered if he would turn if she pushed him over the edge. And what would happen if he did. But before she could act on her thought, he lifted his cane, hooked the handle over her shoulder and pulled her closer. She ended up pressed against him, and in that very moment she decided that she wanted _him_ right now. Jekyll.

And judging by the way he pressed her against him, he wanted her just as much. “We should go back and find a bed”, he said before he bent down and kissed her, hard and longing, awakening the beast in her. She buried her hands in his hair, drawing him closer, and she knew that she wouldn’t make it to a bed. But then, the forest grounds were better than the cobble of London’s streets.


	32. Thirty two

Belle couldn’t help it. Not even Whale would have been able to wipe the grin from her face, not even with demanding her services until the end of time. At least she thought so when she walked back to the house, Jekyll’s hand laced with hers and knees wobbly from the things he had done to her on the soft forest ground. Her skin still tickled, and from time to time the prickling in the pit of her stomach made her sigh. Before they sneaked back into the house, he pulled her into his arms again, kissed her, and picked leaves and twigs from her dress and out of her curls. Belle smiled when he picked a dragonfly wing from her hair, a delicate, transparent little thing that he carefully tucked away in the lid of his pocket watch.

“I think we squashed a fairy”, he said, and his smile was full of mischief. He looked almost like Hyde, and Belle expected to hear him giggle eerily, but a loud bang out of one of the windows over their head cut off every sound that might have come out of him. The banging sound was followed by a scream, a roar that sent a shudder down Belle’s spine. It was Gerhardt, had to be him. She slipped out of Jekyll’s arms, ignoring his attempt to hold her back, and hurried inside and up the stairs. She didn’t care if he followed her or not. 

The shouting grew louder when she reached the top landing of the west wing, and something crashed and shattered to pieces. She ran the last bit of the long corridor leading to the cell. When she opened the door with trembling fingers, she found Gerhardt towering over Whale, pressing him to the wall. His enormous fists were closed around his brother’s throat, squeezing the last breath out of him.

“Stop!” 

Belle yelled it, but she was not sure if he even heard her. Whale’s face had the color of corn rose, and he tried desperately to claw away Gerhardt’s fists. The creature looked back over its shoulder, at Belle, its face disfigured from wrath and hate so deep Belle felt like looking in a bottomless pit. The gentle soul she had believed him to have was gone, huffed out from hate. 

“Please stop.” It was only a whisper this time, and his fists loosened their deadly grip for a fraction. But the next moment, Jekyll entered the room, panting and grabbing his cane like a weapon, and he moved between Belle and the creature. A low growl resonated through the room, but Belle was not sure who gave it off. Whale gasped as the grip of his brother became deadly again. She wanted to step around Jekyll, appeal to the creature, but he extended his arm to hinder her.

“Stay where you are.” It was an order, unmistakable so, and Belle inhaled, ready to argue. But every word stuck in her throat when the creature roared and hurled Whale through the room, practically throwing him at them. Jekyll managed to move incredibly fast for a man with a bad leg, ducking out of the way and yanking Belle with him. They crashed against the wall, Belle caught between the Jekyll and the stones. Only it wasn’t Jekyll anymore. In a split second he had turned, and Hyde darted at the beast, the cane raised high in his hand. He brought it down on Whale’s creature with a dull thud, a cracking sound that made Belle choke, but she gulped down the rising bile as the creature hit the ground under the force of the blow. 

“Edward!”

He stopped with his cane raised high, ready to bring it down again on the creature that howled in pain. As big as it was, it still felt pain, and Hyde was strong, despite his rather slender form. Belle staggered at his side, clutching his arm in an attempt to pull him away from the creature. It knelt on the floor, swaying back and forth and making low, sickening sounds in its throat. It looked at Whale, who had collapsed on the ground, a few feet away from them. 

“Edward, stop it.” 

Hyde turned around to face her, and the creature used the moment to scramble to its feet and dart out of the room without a second glance at them or Whale. 

“I told you he’s dangerous, dearie.” 

Belle winced and stared at Hyde, as yellow and scaly as ever. “No, you didn’t. Jekyll did.” 

He frowned, but if he wanted to say something, it was cut short by Whale, who whimpered in pain, a sound almost as eerie as Hyde’s high pitched giggle. Belle ducked around Hyde and got to her knees besides Whale, who looked like a doll with broken limbs. 

“Do you think there is something broken?” she asked, and her question was directed at both of them.

“Who cares?” 

Belle shot Hyde a dirty look. He certainly didn’t care about Whale. She didn’t either, not really, and not so long ago she had imagined to tear out his throat herself, but seeing him like this didn’t leave her unaffected. He was human, after all, more than anyone else in the small cell, including herself. 

“I don’t think so.” Whale’s voice was still breathless, and he tried to raise himself up to lean against the wall. His eyes didn’t leave Hyde, and Belle realized that for him, the danger had not passed yet. His creature might have been gone, but Hyde, the bigger threat to Whale, was still in the room. And there was something about Hyde that made her shiver. There was an air of menace around him, something evil, and Belle became aware of the pain Whale had caused them. By the looks of it, he was aware of it, too. She didn’t put it past Hyde to make Whale pay for the pain he had inflicted upon them. And she was not even sure if she’d stop him from doing so. After she had eyed Whale for any open wounds, she got to her feet and faced Hyde, who had crept nearer, tiny movements, so tense it drained the air around him from oxygen.

“Bring me home.” 

He raised his brows and cocked his head, and she felt a pang in her guts. She had missed him. “Home, my dear? What about him?” He pointed his chin to Whale, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the Doctor shrinking back against the wall, as if he could hide by somehow melting into the bare stones. 

“Let him be. I don’t want to see him again. Ever. As of now.” 

Whale groaned, but Hyde seemed to accept her words. He stepped over Whale’s outstretched legs, a graceful predator, and grasped her arm to drag her with him out of the room. 

They had to wait for the carriage to get ready, and Belle didn’t relax until they were on their way to London. Whale’s creature seemed to have vanished, and though she had lost the ability to see him as something other than a monster, Belle was glad he was no longer locked in that cell. Maybe he’d find peace somewhere. They had sent Crinklewrinkle to look after Whale, and the old servant had only shortly boggled at the sight of the strange man at Belle’s side, before he shrugged and scuffed away. Perhaps he had credited Jekyll’s changed appearance to his own bad eyesight. There was not much Belle had to pack, and Hyde had kept his word and hadn’t left her side while she roamed through her room and stuffed her few things into a bag. 

Now, seated opposite from Hyde, she felt the tension slip away. Somehow she was glad she didn’t have to explain anything to him, but she still wondered if he had reached some kind of acceptance or understanding of his two halves, something that made him whole again. He watched her without blinking, and after a while his gaze made her nervous again. Why didn’t he talk? Why didn’t he do…anything? He just watched her, leaning back, Jekyll’s cane across his lap, and all his usual sprightliness seemed dulled, subdued, as if borne down by a heavy weight. Belle endured his stare and his silence for an hour, before she finally lost her nerves. 

“Is there something wrong?” 

He seemed to wake out of a trance, his eyes focusing on her lips as if he tried to find out if the sound he had heard had emanated from there. She tried to smile, but it was a little crooked, and he cast down his eyes and began to wriggle his fingers, as if trying to pluck words out of thin air. 

“Did I…hurt you?” He sounded timid, shy, and not at all like the Hyde she remembered. It made her skin crawl. 

“What do you mean?” She knew he asked after the day when he had sent her away, had hurled her down on a table with shattered glass all over its surface, but she wanted to hear it from him. Wanted to hear it out of his mouth. Apparently he didn’t know everything she had spoken with Jekyll. Perhaps Jekyll chose what he shared…Belle’s head started spinning in confusion. She wished this was easy. Hyde flicked his tongue over his bottom lip and flexed his hands.

“The day you told me you were leaving. Did I hurt you?” He sounded as if he had stopped breathing a minute ago.

“Yes.” Simple as that. 

He looked down into his lap where the cane lay, and he took it as if he had never seen it before, rolling it between his palms, like Jekyll had done it at the creek. It was strange to see them make those same gestures, to see them be so similar and yet so different. But Belle had never before noticed so many conformities in their bearing, their movements and even their voice. 

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t try to justify anything, and for that Belle was glad. 

“I know”, she said, and after that they were silent for a long time. Belle looked out of the small windows, thought of what she left behind – not much, apart from memories of a small spot in the woods, beside a creek, where she practiced turning – and what awaited her in London. Not much either.

“What did you do to my father?”, she asked, remembering Hopper’s tale with a start. The red haired butler was traveling on the coachman’s seat, beside a grumpy looking dwarf of a coachman. Her question finally brought out Hyde how she knew him: a malicious smirk curved his lips upwards, and he twirled his hands in a theatrical gesture through the air.

“I taught him some manners, dearie. With scourges and flaying.”

“You’re lying.” Belle held her breath. Her father had done nothing to deserve something like this. Not that Hyde ever cared if someone was deserving of his attention or not.

“Myah…that was a quip. What gave it away?” He cocked his head like a cat watching a bird, contemplating if it could catch the bird and quill it. 

“It was not a very funny quip.” She scowled at him, and he seemed almost sorry. 

“I thought it was hilarious.” He shrugged and screwed up his face, and Belle bit the insides of her cheeks to keep herself from snickering. But she was not ready yet to forgive him and reward him with good humor. Especially not when he japed about torturing her father. She notices that he watched her out of the corner of his eyes, waiting for a sign that he was forgiven, she supposed, but when nothing came, he creased his forehead. “No?” 

“No.” 

“Ah well. I gave him a room and asked him to stay until I found you.”

“Did you lock him up?”

“Of course not.” 

Belle folded her arms and watched him, not saying a word. It didn’t take long until he caved in.

“Mm, I may have locked the room…”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

He waggled his head and grimaced again, and he seemed to rake the air with his fingers to fish for an answer. Finally he leaned towards her, his nose wrinkled and lips puckered, and his answer sounded more like a question. “To not lose him?”

“Jekyll didn’t say anything about that. Neither did Hopper.” 

“They might not know it…”, he muttered, and Belle straightened with a start.

“What did you just say? You can’t just lock someone in for days, without water or food!”

“I never said he’s without water or food…” But he avoided her eyes and stared down on the cane, as stubborn as a child. 

“So he does have water and food?”

“Um…”

“Edward Hyde, if something happened to my father I swear I’m going to kill you. And believe me when I say that I’m perfectly capable of killing you.”

“Myah, by the way, dearie, how is your little wolf problem? It will be a while till we reach London, and it’s almost the full moon…”

Belle threw her hands in the air and let out an ugly snort. “It’s just perfect. Everything is just perfect.” 

Hyde seemed lost, his face slipping from one grimace into another, as if he was arguing with himself about what so say and finally putting every idea aside. She was almost sorry for him. Almost. He deserved so much more than just a few hours of discomfort. 

“Well, we’ll have a few hours left to find out about the wolf thing, haven’t we?”, she said, leaning back into her seat. To think she had been genuinely glad to see him in that cell…Now she wished she could just slap him, again and again. Her flesh tingled with the desire to kick and scream, and her bones hurt as if someone was pulling on them. Of course this could all be the moon’s influence, tugging at her wolf nature. She hadn’t had really time to concentrate on that since Jekyll and Whale had shown up. 

Hyde shrank back into his seat, too, and for a while they rode in silence. From time to time she glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, as he still was unusually quiet. And, what worried her even more, he tried really hard not to touch her accidentally, a real chore in the confined space of the carriage. When he flinched about the fifteenth time because a bump in the road caused him to brush her knees accidentally with his, she couldn’t take it anymore. 

“What on earth is wrong? You’re behaving as if I’m poisonous and could bite at any moment!” 

“I just don’t want to touch you.” 

“That much I noticed.” But hearing it hurt more than she had anticipated. “Is there something wrong with me so you don’t want to touch me anymore?” 

His reaction startled her, and she flinched at his giggle, high pitched and eerily misplaced. It just sounded wrong. “Of course not.”

“Then…what is it?” 

“Well, obviously I hurt you a lot. I don’t want to do that again.”

“So you just want to make it better by never touching me again?” 

He grimaced. “You don’t like my plan?” 

This time she couldn’t keep herself from snickering. “No, dearie, I don’t like your plan.”

“You want me to touch you?” He sounded surprised, almost shocked, and Belle shook her head at so much silliness. 

“Of course. I love you. Even if you make mistakes, I still love you. I may have thought otherwise, when the pain was still fresh, but now, after I had a little time to cool off… Well, I missed you.”

A smile spread over his face, crooked and wrinkled, but she loved it. 

“Well, then it’s time we reach this hellhole of a city. I need to tuck you in a bed. Or a dungeon, depending on your preferences.” He wriggled his brows and allowed their knees finally to touch.

“You know, if there wasn’t the wolf thing, the mention of your dungeon would be probably not the best way to win me over…”

“Sweetheart, I already have you. No need to win you over.” 

Belle chuckled, relieved to finally have Hyde back as she knew him, full of mischief and the craving to get her out of her clothes. But the closer they came to London, the closer nightfall came, the greater the pain in her bones became, and she knew that she would turn into a wolf, and there was nothing she could do about it. She became restless, and Hyde ordered the coachman to increase their tempo. Still, when they reached the city, there was no way to get through fast, as London’s streets were as blocked as ever. Belle stretched to get rid of the pain, and her spine clunked. When she winced and bit her lip to keep herself from whimpering, Hyde frowned. 

“This won’t do, darling. We have to get you off the streets. Do you think you can walk the rest?”

She nodded. “As long as we walk fast…I only practiced to turn at will. Never to not turn…”

He helped her out of the carriage and steered her through the streets without letting go of her arm. There seemed to be an uproar of some kind, and the streets were much fuller than Belle remembered them. She was not sure if it was her own nervousness, or if there really were more and more people, men and women, but there was anger and menace vibrating in the atmosphere, and it frightened her. She tugged at Hyde’s sleeve, but he paid no mind and dragged her along, until she finally grabbed his arm and made him stop. 

“Edward, there is something wrong here.” 

They stood and listened, and Belle noticed how more and more of the people around them looked at them, at Hyde, pointed and whispered, and she remembered that he still was wanted. But that was not their only problem, it seemed. Belle grabbed a girl that passed them.

“What’s going on here?” she asked.

“It’s the Ripper. He killed another woman, and people are angry because that committee is useless. We want the killing to stop.” The girl pulled her arm out of Belle’s grip and vanished in a cluster of colorfully clad woman. 

“Perhaps we should make a detour”, Belle said, but Hyde didn’t even listen. He stared at her as if he was thinking about throwing her over his shoulder and drag her away. 

“I don’t want to frighten you, dear, but your teeth are quite…big”, he said, and he made a small step away from her, grimacing as if he had spotted a bear behind her back. “Do you think you can be a nice little wolf, or should I knock you out?” 

The question made her want to jump him, crush his throat with her fangs, and Belle wondered if she had actually acted on that first instinct when she heard the screams and shouts arising around her and felt his arms closing around her ribcage like a steel band, as if he was about to crush her, his hands buried deep into the pelt on her neck, trying to keep away her fangs from his skin. 

Only then she became aware that she was the wolf, trying to rip Hyde into pieces. 


	33. Thirty three

Somehow she managed to stop, managed to keep her fangs from closing around his throat. She twisted in his grip, and his hand slipped from her neck. Before Hyde could get a better hold of her, she was out of his arms. 

There were people everywhere, screaming, shouting people, reeking of fear and horror, eyes gleaming in the dusk, and the fear clawed into her and made her heart race. A snarl trembled in her throat, warning them of coming near her, warning Hyde of attacking her again. Somehow she knew his name, knew that something inside her belonged to him, but she didn’t like it. She growled louder, and he halted, crouching down, extending a hand. He made sounds, and perhaps he formed something she ought to understand, but she didn’t. It was just babbling to her, and it frightened her. Just when he tried to grab her again, she bolted, stretched her limbs, escaped out of his reach. She collided with others in her way, but she didn’t attack them. She knew, if she stopped to attack, to defend herself, they would grab her, would overpower her in the end. So she just fled, a grey streak darting through the crowd. 

She was fast, and her paws hardly touched the ground, but she noticed being chased. Something was at her heels, determined to catch her. Then, through the stink of the city, she smelled something else, a faint trace in the air, and it jolted through her veins and made her fur stand on end. Something wet, metallic, something she wanted to wallow in. She changed her direction, followed the scent, and it lured her deeper and deeper into the thicket of crooked houses and narrow alleys. There was still someone following her, but she didn’t care so much right now. She just wanted to find the source of that smell. 

Her appearance didn’t cause so many cries anymore, maybe it was too dark to see her form properly by now, maybe they just thought her to be a huge dog when she passed them, but people took less notice of her here. The scent got stronger, almost overwhelming now, and she knew she was very close. It came out of a dark alley, strangely deserted, and when she crept nearer, there was a scuffling and rustling, and a wet and squishing sound, as if someone prodded his fingers in a muddy pool. And the dizzying stench of blood. She growled, and in the dark, something flinched and recoiled. She stalked into the alley, her steps controlled and measured. She could smell the other predator there, covered in the blood of his prey, and something glinting in the dark, a sharp blade. She could make out his form, hear his steps retreating, and the smell of fear rising beneath the blood. His arms swung in wide circles, cutting the blackness around him with his blade, and she knew then that he couldn’t see her, only hear the growling in her throat coming closer as she leapt over the bloody mess that had been his prey. The last flicker of life was long gone in this one, and she concentrated more on the figure that had killed it.

Under all the blood and the fear, he smelled familiar, but then, everyone in this city had this certain smell on them, the reek seeping through every pore and uniting them to one pack, one rotten heap of flesh and filth. Her jaws itched with the urge to bite into the hunching figure in the dark and shake the life out of him. 

“Shush! Off with you, fucking dog”, he snarled, waving around his knife, and the blade flashed like a single tooth in the darkness. She ducked and growled again, but before she could lunge at him, a high pitched giggle echoed through the alley.

“I wouldn’t get aggressive with this particular dog, Jack.” 

Suddenly there were predators at both ends of the alley, and she was caught between them. But somehow she knew that the yellow man that had followed her here was a bigger threat to the other one than to her, even if he had attacked her earlier. 

“I’m not Jack”, the one with the knife said, but she could smell the lie in all the blood on him.

“Of course you’re not.” The yellow man danced closer. Hyde. The memory of his name prickled along her spine and forced another growl from her. “But, you see, I’m not Jack either. So one of us is lying.”

“Call your dog back.”

Again Hyde giggled, and she tensed at the sound. 

“Oh, she isn’t a dog.” 

“I don’t care. Call it back.” There was fear in the other man’s voice, and she crept closer, every muscle tense in the anticipation of leaping at him. Again his knife slashed through the air.

“Now why would I do that? There’s nothing I’ll get out of it.” Hyde skipped closer, too, and the flesh of her back crawled with his nearness. She didn’t like him at her back. But she didn’t take her attention from the man with the knife. He was prey. Her prey.

“What do you want?” Her prey took a step backwards and collided with the brickwork there. 

“Hm. Just answer me some questions. You wanted someone specific take the blame for your…little knife play. Why him?”

“Is this about Jekyll?” Her prey sounded surprised. She stretched her shoulder blades and crouched down, ready to dart at his throat, but something held her back, though she couldn’t exactly pinpoint it. It was nothing material, more like a invisible rope around her neck that tightened when the urge to kill grew too strong.

“He had to pay.” 

“What for?” Hyde took another step towards her prey, and she snarled and snapped her teeth at him. This was her kill. Not his.

“He took something from me. The son I was about to have. He killed his mother, and the babe with her. And then he didn’t even pay for her funeral.”

She couldn’t take it anymore. In one swift movement she lunged at him, shaking off the invisible binds, buried her fangs in his throat, and only when his blood flooded her jaws, welled over her tongue, did she remember his name. Spencer. Albert Spencer. She didn’t feel more than a sting when he stabbed her with his knife, burying the blade beneath her ribs. There was a plopping sound when she cracked the cartilage of his trachea, and she tore at the flesh, before someone grabbed her neck and she was yanked away.

“Don’t, sweetheart, you’ll regret this…” 

She snapped at Hyde, tried to wrest herself free, gnarling and growling, but she couldn’t break out of his grip. There was a gurgling cough from her prey, and she wanted to finish him, tear at his flesh until he didn’t move anymore, but somehow her strength slipped away, and she felt heavy and limp, and the sting in her side grew hotter and pierced though her rage. She twisted nonetheless, but Hyde’s grip around her neck and her chest became harder, painful, until he seemed short of cracking her ribcage. 

“Keep still, darling”, he said, his face pressed into the pelt of her neck, and her struggle became weaker, feeble, and she whimpered and whined, begging for him to let her go, but he dragged her away, away from her prey, away from where the blood filled the air with its coppery stench. She shivered, and her whimpering became sobbing and the sting beneath her ribs became pain. Hyde’s grip on her loosened, he no longer held her in a choke, and his coat scratched on her naked skin when he pulled her in a gentle embrace. 

She was human again. And she was naked. Hyde slipped out of his coat and threw it over her shoulders, and when she slipped her arms into the sleeves, she felt his warmth all around her. Only then did she look back, at the dark alley, where she still heard a quiet gurgling and coughing, a sign that the man – Spencer, she remembered – still struggled for his life.

“What did I do?” She choked out the question, pressed it past the lump in her throat and past the sobs and tears.

“I’d say you did us all a favor, dearie.”

“I killed him.”

“Not quite. But things can always change.”

She wanted to answer, but all that left her lips was a yelp, pain searing through her and making her almost faint. She reeled, and Hyde closed his arms around her, keeping her from falling.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and Belle clutched her side, where the sharp, pulsing pain originated. 

“I don’t think so”, she mumbled, before everything went black.

***

When her eyes fluttered open, bright light surrounded her, and at first she was sure she had died. Not until a shadow moved in her line of sight, she realized that she was lying in a bed, and the light fell through a high window with lightweight curtains. It was a new day. She narrowed her eyes to make out the face of the shadow looming over her bed. 

Jekyll. 

She closed her eyes again and sighed. A slight sting accompanied the intake of breath, and she must have winced, because a cool hand touched her cheek. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, the pain will pass. You’re almost healed already.” His voice was so gentle, almost trembling. She had to look at him, into his eyes, surrounded by lines of sorrow. 

“How did I get here?” she asked, and her mattress sunk in when he sat down at her side, his fingertips still on her cheek.

“Hyde carried you. Not easy, with all those people on the streets and the rumor of a wolf on the loose spreading like wildfire.”

“And then you changed?”

“You needed a doctor. You were stabbed…” 

She closed her eyes again. She remembered. The blood. The stench. The revolting sounds of her fangs gnawing through flesh and sinews. She choked on bile. But she remembered something else, too, and she gasped and stared at the man still stroking her face. 

“He said you killed the mother of his unborn child. That’s why he wanted to frame you for the murders.” 

Jekyll froze, and his face grew cold and impassive. “Who said that?”

Oh, he was a terrible liar. He knew exactly what she was talking about, but he tried to hide himself behind Hyde, pretending not to know what had passed. Well, she could see right through him, under his skin and into his heart.

“The man I killed. Albert Spencer.”

“You didn’t kill him. You merely inflicted a possibly fatal wound on him.”

Belle raised her eyebrows, and only then he noticed his mistake. He took his fingertips away from her skin and placed his hands on his cane. 

“Tell me”, she said. She was not sure she was ready to hear it, but she had killed a man. And even if he had been a killer himself, murdering and mutilating women in the cruelest of fashions, he was a human being. She had never thought she’d take a life one day, just huff it out like a tiny candle, without hesitation. The realization of what she had done sickened her. And yet there she was, lying in a bed, cared for by a man who looked at her as if he loved her, as if it didn’t matter to him what she had done. How could she possibly condemn him then? 

“I already told you about my wife. She was killed in a brothel.”

Belle frowned. “You said she was killed, yes. But what does this have to do with Spencer?

“She was pregnant.” 

“Pregnant. You mean…?”

“Yes. She was with child. Albert Spencer’s child, to be precise. But she wanted to get rid of it, and the woman who performed that abortion made a poor job of it. I tried to save her life, but in the end I was too late. There was not much I could do about it. She bled out under my hands.” 

It was more terrible than Belle could ever have imagined. Jekyll watching his wife bleeding out after the failed abortion of another man’s child. “Why did he think you killed her?”

“Well, it was easily deducible by all the blood I as covered in. He just stumbled in on us when we were cleaning up the mess.”

“We?” 

“Me and Regina. The madam of said brothel.”

“But when you were there when she died, why did you have to identify her? And why did you take your son with you?” There was just so much that didn’t make sense to Belle. 

“I had a reputation to protect. I couldn’t admit being part of a shady procedure in an even shadier brothel. And I already told you what made me take my son with me. I was stupid. I still am.” His voice was strained, flat and breathless. 

“So you did not really kill your wife?” 

For the length of a heartbeat he looked as if he was about to speak, confess something terrible, but then he just pressed his lips together and shook his head. She was not sure if it was really the truth, but she decided not to ask further. Not now, anyway. 

“I still don’t get how he got hold of your cane, to place it with the first victim.” She remembered her shock when Graham had revealed that tidbit of information to her. It was still strange.

“I think I must have lost it. I turned that night, and perhaps Hyde just tossed it. We weren’t that cordial at the time.” He shrugged. Belle pondered it for a little longer. Something was still off. How had the cane found its way to the Ripper? Had Albert Spencer known about Jekyll and Hyde, watched them to wait for a mistake, like throwing away such a personal item like an engraved cane?

She started to tremble, and she tried to hide it by pulling the sheets up to her chin. The taste of blood still lingered in her tongue. She still felt his skin rupturing under her fangs, blood and squashed flesh spurting into her jaws. She had killed a man. 

“Are you cold?” 

Belle laughed, cold and hard and wretched. “No, I’m not cold.” 

Jekyll regarded her silently, his hands on the handle of his cane flexing, opening and closing. Then he leaned the cane against her nightstand, careful and meticulous, and each of his movements seemed to be exactly measured out as he laid down beside her, slipping under the sheets, pulling her into his arms and holding her in a tight embrace, gently cradling her. 

“It will get better. You will learn to live with it. I’ll help you.” He whispered it into her hair, and she felt some of her tension dissolve, felt the guilt that twisted her insides burn a little less, because he held her. He was there. And he had to know how she felt, because he had been there. She tilted her head up to bring her face to his lips, and he kissed her, gentle, as if it was the first time. She tasted tears on her lips, but they were her own. She had not noticed she was crying until he wiped away the wetness from her face and replaced her tears with kisses. But still she cried, and new tears welled up in her eyes and wetted her face and her pillow. Jekyll pulled her closer and licked over her temple, licked away her tears, and when his palm slid down the side of her neck and her arm, she shivered with the sensation that crawled over her skin. How could she still feel this way after she had killed someone? Her hips twitched when Jekyll gently grasped her wrist and pulled it up to his lips, kissing and sucking on her skin on its inside. Then he bent forward and kissed the crook of her neck, the tiny bit of skin her nightgown revealed, and he licked and sucked on her until she shivered and moaned.

“Please…it’s not right…” It were silly words, and Belle hoped he would just disregard them, ignore them, as if they were never spoken. But of course he didn’t. He was Jekyll, after all. He leaned back and locked eyes with her, calm and unsmiling.

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

“No, I don’t want you to stop. It just feels wrong to…do this.”

“You’re celebrating life. It’s a normal reaction after encountering death.”

“Do you think so?” Her voice was thin, and muffled by the tears she had shed. 

“I know it.” He leaned closer again and pressed his lips on hers, and when she felt his tongue, hot and wet, licking over her lips, she opened them and let him in. His taste washed away the taste of blood, and she answered him with timid strokes of her own tongue. He slid his palms over her collarbones, over her chest and down to her breasts, cupping them through the fabric of her nightgown. His thumbs made small circles around the tip of her breasts, and when her nipples hardened, it was as if a string out of molten heat tugged at her loins and between her legs. She made a sound at the back of her throat, more a croaking than anything else, and he pulled back and chuckled.

“You like this?” He plucked at her nipples, teased her with caresses that set her loins on fire. 

“Yes, I like this.” Somehow she felt compelled to answer, and the smile that curved his lips was one of joy and pride. 

“Do you want more?” 

“Yes.” She couldn’t help but sound strained. She wanted so much more, wanted him to make her forget. And he did, sliding down and wetting the fabric over her nipples with his mouth, sucking them between his lips. She arched against his lips while at the same time raking her fingers through his hair and pulling his head down on her. When he rolled over her and got up to his knees, pinning her down, there was a feral grin on his lips, one that made him look like Hyde, much more than she cared at the moment. 

“Sweetheart, it was a very bad idea of me to put you into this terrible and ugly piece of clothing. Forgive me.” With that, he grabbed the nightgown and just ripped it open. Even the sound of ripping fabric was exciting to her, and her breath hitched in her throat when his eyes fell on her exposed skin. “I love you”, he whispered, before he bent down again and kissed her. He let himself fall to her side and pulled her over his chest. Belle didn’t want to break the kiss, never, even if it meant to suffocate. But he was still wearing shirt and pants, and she wanted him naked beneath her. A thrill twisted her insides when she repeated his actions on him and ripped open his shirt, sending buttons flying through the room. He moaned into her mouth, even bit her bottom lip, as she tried to open his pants with clumsy fingers. There were so many buttons, but finally she managed to wrench them down. Now it was her turn to take him in with her eyes, and she followed every line, every muscle with hungry eyes. When she bent down again to plant kisses on his chest, she had to keep herself from biting into him. She wanted to melt into him, completely, and every little sigh and moan she elicited sent shivers down her spine and into her stomach. She licked over his chest, his stomach, down, and when she reached his erected shaft, he wanted to pull her up again.

“Please, Belle, you don’t have to do this…” 

She closed her hand around him and watched his face as she stroked up and down his length, and when he threw back his head and rolled his eyes, groaning, she knew that this was exactly what she wanted to do. His hips started to pump, and she bent down and blew her breath over the tip of his shaft. 

“Say please, Henry”, she said. 

“Please, Belle, Please…” His begging sent a rush of ecstasy through her, a thrill at her nerve endings, and she was just as much aroused by his pleading as by her own daring. When she kissed the tip of his erection, and licked slowly over it, he jerked in her hand, buried his hands in her hair, and the little sound he made when he gulped down a large portion of air made her almost giggle. But that sound was nothing compared to the desperate groan he gave off when she closed her lips around him and took as much of his length into her mouth as she was able to. 

“Oh Belle, please, please…” 

She sucked and licked and pressed her tongue against the underside of his shaft, until his begging blurred into indistinct syllables and gasps of pleasure. She let go of him with a plopping noise, grinning at the thrill of power and lust flushing her, and she crawled at his side, kissing him before she straddled him, guiding him inside her with her hand. She was wet, alone from pleasuring him, from feeling the power she had over him, but once he was inside her, she didn’t take away her hand, but instead circled that point of hers that made her world spin. She came fast and hard, riding him in a frantic rhythm, while he plucked at her nipples and she touched herself, and only heartbeats after her climax took her, he tensed and grabbed her hips, pumping for the last time upwards before he came undone, too. 

Belle was panting heavily, and was barely able to manage to glide down to his side, so he could breathe, too, and for a while they just laid side by side, listening to their own racing heartbeats. 

“You were right. It’s good to be alive.” She didn’t exactly know to what she referred, but just in this moment, as she slipped her hand into his, everything felt exactly as it should be. Everything was right. 

“Yes. Isn’t it perfect to be a monster?” he said, with an eerie giggle, and when he rolled himself on top of her, he was Hyde again, and the look on his face sent a shiver down her spine. 


	34. Thirty four

Hyde bared his teeth in a snarl before bending down to take her lips, but Belle turned her face away from him.

“Haven’t missed me long enough, have you?” He chuckled, and Belle felt his stomach vibrate on hers. She was not sure why she was so shocked to see him, have him so close, but she hated the insinuation that she liked to be a monster. 

“It’s not perfect to be a monster. I don’t want to run wild and kill people left and right.” She had been almost content, comforted by Jekyll. Now Hyde had stirred her guilt again, had poked into the dark mass inside her. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him, and nothing in his face reminded of the shyness and insecurity he had displayed on their ride to London.

“He asked for it.” 

“Did he? That still doesn’t make it right.”

“Dearie, you have to accept that there is a part of you that doesn’t ask if it’s right or wrong to want or to do something. It just does.” He let go of her chin and raised himself up on his arms, pressing a leg between her knees. 

“I’d rather like to have Jekyll back”, she whispered. Somehow Hyde forced her to look at the thing inside her, the beast, and she didn’t like that. She didn’t want to look at it, feel it, remember the moment her fangs had crushed that throat. She didn’t want to look at him, because he made her see what she was. A monster. She’d rather wrap herself in Jekyll’s reason for a little longer, tuck it around the beast like a blanket and pretend that reason was a leash strong enough to bind any monster. 

“Sweetheart, Jekyll had a weak moment. You rode down his defenses.” He giggled when she frowned at him. “Don’t you want me to show you how much more exciting this can be if you don’t keep yourself in control all the time?” 

“Didn’t I try to kill you last time I let go of control?” she asked, but she allowed herself to wrap her legs around him, and he rolled his hips to let her feel how much he liked that. 

“You did. Looks like you have something to make up to me.” He wriggled his brows. Of course he’d love to make her pay. And she remembered how it had irritated her when he had tried not to touch her. But that had been an eternity ago. Nevertheless did she tighten the embrace of her legs around him, as if afraid he might pull back at any moment. The shock over his sudden appearance wore off, was replaced by something else. Hyde knew how to lure out the beast in her, and a hollow ache swallowed the satiation that had filled her. He bent down, kissed her, and this time she let him. It was only a shallow kiss, a fleeting touch of his lips, before he kissed her jaw, licked over her throat and made her arch against him. 

“You made Jekyll beg, my dear. I’m impressed. But this time it’s your turn to beg.”

She gasped when he got up to his knees, straightened himself and pinched her nipples. Where Jekyll was gentle, he was demanding, feral, and her body reacted to his claim with a jerking of her hips. New heat was building up inside her, and she wanted him to take her, wanted to feel the excitement, and she tilted her head back to expose her throat and lure him back down. She wanted him to bite her, mark her, make her his, but he didn’t comply to her silent plea, not even when she rolled her hips again to let him feel the wetness between her legs. But he grinned and drew back from her core, to make space for his touch. His hands slid down over her ribcage, her waist, her hips, lifting her up and digging deep into the skin of her buttocks. 

“I know you want me, dear, but I’d like to hear you say it.” 

She grasped his arms, tried to pull him back down on her, closer, wanted to show him that she wanted him, but she couldn’t bring him to bend down again. 

“Be a good monster and say it, dearie.” He was teasing her, but there was an edge to his voice, a growling tone that made her aware of his dangerous nature. And of her own, because it was this tone of his that made her insides contract in need. That made her breath hitch in her throat. But she didn’t want to give in, didn’t want to be his monster, so she tucked up her knees to her chest and kicked him away, scrambled to all fours to hop out of the bed. He giggled, high pitched and childishly, but he didn’t chase after her. Instead he knelt on the bed and watched her, a smirk on his lips, as she stood in front of the bed, naked and panting. 

She knew how to take the lead. She knew she could make him comply to anything, knew how to make  him beg. He, in turn, knew exactly how to make her bristle. 

“Don’t like to be a monster, sweetheart?” He tilted his head, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “If you don’t like to be my monster, you could be my pet.” 

Despite herself, his words sent a thrill through her. Tugged at the inner strings that connected her belly with her loins and increased the heat there, the tickling ache. She could be monster with him. Beast. Give in to hunger and craving. Give in to the wild side. And, at the same time, allow Jekyll to give in to his needs, his urges, become Hyde, become the monster with her. 

“I rather be monster than pet” she said, and her voice was hoarse.

“Then say it.”

She bared her teeth in a snarl, and her lower lip trembled uncontrolled with the wave of heat and yearning that surged through her. “I want you. I want to be your monster.”

“That’s a good girl. Come here.” 

Belle bit her lip to stop it from trembling and crawled back into bed, where he greeted her with a kiss that almost smothered her. She wanted to shove him down, take him again like she had done with Jekyll, but he didn’t let her. Instead he pushed her down on her stomach, pinning her down with his weight, pressing his chest to her back and his loins to her backside. He brushed aside her hair, kissed and sucked at the nape of her neck, and all Belle could do was to press her bottom up, against him, making small, squeaking noises. She felt his erection, wanted him inside her, now, and she opened her thighs to lure him in. 

“I still want you to beg, darling” he said, his breath condensing on her shoulder, and she moaned when he bit her, sucked at her skin, sending shivers and goose bumps down her spine. He shoved a hand under her belly, and his long fingers found her sex, rubbed the little nub between her folds and made her thrust her hips in a frantic rhythm. She was already close, so close, when he withdrew his hand from her core and planted a teasing slap on her bottom. 

“Oh, you beast! Don’t stop!” She almost sobbed, tried to wriggle under him to get a better angle, pressed her sex into the mattress, but nothing brought her satisfaction she sought. His chuckle tickled her neck, and his lips and tongue only increased her need when he licked over the side of her neck, up to the shell of her ear. 

“That’s not begging, sweetheart” he said, and his hot breath sent another shudder over her. He stroked her side, her arm, her neck, brushed her hair from her cheek and tickled her lips with his fingertips. “I wanna hear you say it.” 

The more he teased and demanded, the less she wanted to comply, to give him the words he craved for, but the way he was urging her spoke of a deep need, of something more than just the wish to control her. He wanted to be sure of her, have the certainty that she really wanted him, head to toe. How could she deny him this, even if she knew that words could never be enough, least of all words coaxed from her lips in a moment of desperate need. 

“Please.” She rolled her hips, parted her legs even more to invite him in, and he groaned into her hair. “Please, Edward, take me. Please.” She begged in earnest now, needed him like air to breathe, and finally he gave in, lifted himself up and pulled her up to her knees. When he entered her, he was not gentle, but she didn’t need him to be. She needed him hard, wholly, and she answered every thrust with moans of pleasure and pleas for more, until her climax claimed her when he buried himself deep inside her for the last time, caressing her where they were joined and making her world shatter in color and light.

They lay side by side, heavily panting, and Belle was drowsy, spent so thoroughly she was sure she wouldn’t be able to move for at least a week. But it wasn’t granted them to rest for long. Belle had hardly closed her eyes when a knock on the door forced them open again. Hyde stirred beside her, a snarl on his lips, and Belle almost pitied the poor soul that had disturbed them.

“Dr. Jekyll, Constable Graham is here to talk to you.” It was Hopper, talking through the closed door, and Belle, who hadn’t wondered about it before, asked herself if she was in Jekyll’s bedroom. She looked at Hyde, who rolled his eyes and snorted. 

“Um, Dr. Jekyll is…otherwise engaged”, she said, her voice raised to be heard through the closed door. Hyde raised his brows, and Belle blushed. 

“It seems to be urgent. Perhaps you could convince him to break his engagement and talk to the Constable. I tell him to wait.” 

Belle heard Hopper scuffle away without waiting for her to answer, and she frowned at the door. 

“How does he expect me to do that?” she muttered, but when she looked at Hyde, he was gone. In his stead was Jekyll, frowning at the door as if he was wondering where he was. “Well, that was easier than I thought. You’re pretty good at changing now, aren’t you?” 

He looked at her, eyes narrowed, and Belle became aware that he was angry. At her or at himself?

“Hyde was off guard, just as I was when he took over. This is really tedious.” He slipped out of bed and started to put his clothes back on. It was a hopeless endeavor, since his shirt had only half of its buttons left, but Belle couldn’t say she minded the skin visible at its gaping front. Only when she slipped out of bed and searched for something to dress herself, he paused and stared at her.

“What are you doing?”

“Dressing. I’m coming with you, of course.”

“But…your reputation.” It was a lame point, and he knew it.

“Which reputation? I might have been gone for a month, but last time I checked I was still ruined. Do you think Graham forgot about that?” 

After that he didn’t object anymore, and he even helped her to dress. He examined the scar beneath her ribs where the Ripper had stabbed her, but other than a faint white line, there was nothing left of it. They were a sorry sight when they were dressed, their clothing disarranged and messy, but neither of them cared. 

Graham waited for them in the study, and his face lit up for a second when Belle entered the room at Jekyll’s side. But he cleared his throat and sobered his expression, showing no further sign of delight at seeing her again.

“Dr. Jekyll”, he said, bowing his head. Jekyll nodded, only a tiny motion of his chin to show his acknowledgment, but he kept silent. Belle’s hand still rested on his arm, and she felt his tension, his muscles tight under his shirt. 

Again, Graham cleared his throat. “I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but the Ripper killed again yesterday and the day before that. The first murder almost caused a riot, and someone must have gotten to the Ripper.” He paused, watching Jekyll for a moment, as if waiting for some sort of sign, anything that might betray knowledge of what had passed. Jekyll’s composure was unreadable, and after a while, Graham continued. “It seems like someone walked in on him while he was occupied with the second victim. And it looks like that someone had a mighty big dog with him. Almost chewed off the Ripper’s head.”

Belle clenched her jaws to keep herself from flinching. 

“And you’re positive this was the Ripper?” Jekyll asked. 

“No. There is no definitive proof of it. But he had a set of knives with him. One of them was still by his side, covered in blood.”

“So, who was it?” 

Belle held her breath and dug her nails into Jekyll’s arm. If she hurt him, he didn’t show it. Graham shifted his stance.

“Unknown”, he said, and seemed completely calm and unmoved by the lie he told. 

“Well, let’s hope then it really was the Ripper. Thank you, Constable.” Jekyll stepped aside, taking Belle with him, to make way for Graham to exit. The Constable started to leave, but he halted and turned again, his eyes fixed on Belle.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his gaze piercing into hers without blinking.

“I am”, she said, though she was barely able to contain her rage. Unknown. He had been here, in this very house, with the man that had killed all those women, accusing Jekyll of being the culprit. She cast down her eyes, afraid Graham might see right through her façade. Her eyes flew up again when Jekyll covered her hand on his arm with his, squeezing her for a moment, and she smiled at him. They both watched silently as Graham left. 

“Why do you think they cover up that it was Albert Spencer?” she asked, when the Constable was gone.

“Probably to avoid a scandal. Doesn’t shed the best of light on them when the Chairman of the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee is the murderer. I think Graham just wanted to let me know I’m no longer a suspect.” 

Belle bit her lip and stared at the door. “So, what do we do now?” 

Jekyll pulled her around to face him, and closed his arms around her in a tight embrace. “What do you want to do?” He asked, and his breath tickled in her hair.

“I don’t know. I always wanted to see the world. But perhaps it would be nice to just leave the city again and live in peace and quiet for a while…” She leaned her forehead to his shoulder and sighed. At the moment she was content being with him. 

“Well, then let’s do that. I have a nice house in the country. We can stay there for a while.” 

Belle smiled and pressed a kiss to his throat. But then she remembered something, and she pulled back to look at him. “Maybe we should check if my father is still locked in somewhere in this house before we leave.”

“Yes, we should absolutely do that.” 

She raised her eyebrows, and he smiled, before he bent down to kiss her.

  


  


THE END

  


  



End file.
